Griever Chronicles: Shutat
by Larathia
Summary: Several hundred years after Squall's children enter the world, the Mageborn Shutat ab Llew inherits SeeD's most powerful junction...
1. In the Beginning

"Chugi, don't run!"

The short, red-headed cadet skidded on the walkway, turning his head to grin wickedly over his shoulder. "What, don't want your sword to slap you on the ass as you jog?"

"No," put in an equally short female cadet with light brown hair and brown eyes. "He just doesn't want to listen to you whine when DC gives you punishment duty for breaking the rules again."

"Who said anything about the DC?" asked the first speaker, quietly amused. Blue white curls fell across laughing eyes that were almost black in a ghost-pale face as he pointed. "Instructor Gabren's early, Chugi. If he caught you running you'd end up _wishing_ the DC had caught you first. You don't want points knocked before the test even begins, do you?"

"Whoa," blinked Chugi, following the taller boy's finger. "I need to start using you as a lookout tower, Shutat. I could climb up your sword..."

Shutat made a face. "Not if it's on fire, Chugi."

"Think we'll be assigned together?" asked the girl, who was sizing up the cadets already near the Instructor.

"I think that's too much luck to hope for, Naia," sighed Shutat. "You know they like to split the standard groups up for the exam."

There were already more than a dozen students gathered near the directory, chatting in their preferred groups, with Instructor Gabren checking his clipboard as he noted those who had arrived. Shutat took his time walking over - not because he was avoiding breaking Garden rules, but because he was fighting a sudden and unreasonable urge to turn around and go the other way. This was his field exam! He'd spent years training for this - it made no sense to back out now. Becoming a SeeD would be vindication. He put his reluctance down to knowing he'd be fighting alongside strangers. He'd grown to rely on Chugi and Naia's easy companionship.

"Ah, Shutat," nodded the Instructor as they approached. "Chugi, Naia, right. I think that's the last of you."

Chugi and Naia both bowed from the waist; Shutat nodded. Not out of a lack of respect, but because he had a five foot long flamberge strapped to his back that tended to cause concussions if he bowed. Most Instructors were willing to let him get away with a nod of acknowledgment rather than have to dodge the hilt.

Gabren was a very easygoing Instructor, one of the few that had no problems with Shutat. He merely waved the three of them into the group. "Now that we are all here," he said, "It's time to split you off. You'll receive details of your squad's assignments on the transports. For now, understand that from the moment you reach the transport you are taking the field exam and that everything you say, do, or refrain from saying or doing will count towards your final score."

The three friends took the hint and stood quietly at attention as the squads were called out; Shutat was assigned to Squad F. He wasn't expecting a good time, but the darkly closed features of his teammates as he approached did not bode well.

The taller one, who towered over Shutat's five foot ten by a good six inches, held a large machine gun at the ready - as if itching to point it at Shutat himself. "I'm Horner," he said, and indicated his shorter but broader companion (who was still taller than Shutat was). "That's Ike."

Ike had a battle mace - one of the advanced models that fired its spikes like missiles when the wielder wished. He didn't look any happier about his new teammate than did Horner. "So you're the mageborn," he growled. "Go on, do the thingy with your eyes. What's your trick? We got a right to know here."

Shutat - realizing his hunch had been right, and this was going to be a _long_ exam - allowed his eyes to shift. Almost black but human eyes became glowing blue-white fields, the same bluish white as his hair. "Shutat of Bahamut," he said shortly, pulling out the small silver Bahamut pendant he wore around his neck for brief inspection before tucking it back into his jacket and letting his eyes return to normal.

It was a proper introduction, but it didn't help his companions any - both looked surprised, confused, and annoyed. "So what's that do, then?" demanded Horner suspiciously. "I've never heard of a Bahamut mageborn before."

"He sets things on fire," put in Instructor Gabren, who had come to join them. "Which you'll understand I don't want him demonstrating in here. Specifically, he sets that sword of his on fire."

Shutat tried not to grin as his teammates immediately snapped into dispassionate poses. Shutat had to work with them, whether any of them liked it or not, and behaving unprofessionally would get their scores docked. Gabren had just done him a favor - another favor, really, but the Instructor didn't seem to keep track. But he didn't want to delude his teammates, so he clarified his Instructor's comments. "I can set blades on fire. Not anything and everything."

Fire was a secondary power of his Gift. But he wasn't about to talk about his hunches in front of these two - he'd had enough requests for fortunetelling the first time he'd made the mistake of mentioning the rest of his power. Or what his power _should have been_ - if he'd been a fully gifted mageborn he wouldn't have come to SeeD.

Of course, if he'd been a fully gifted mageborn, he'd be dead by now anyway. It all balanced out, and he wasn't going to complain. Setting the odd dagger on fire was just fine.

Gabren turned to face the majority of the formed squads. "Your assignment is in Trabia, and it is outdoors and aboveground. Uniforms are required. Assemble when you are ready at the Garage - board as teams! No incomplete squads will board the transports. We leave at 1400 Garden time."

The group split up roughly evenly, taking different routes around the Garden ring to reach their dormitories depending on what they wanted to do along the way. Chugi and Naia quickly caught up to Shutat - both quite excited.

"I'm going to get to work with the Trabians!" Naia all but squeaked, much to her friends' amusement. "I've always wanted to ask them how they do that stuff."

Chugi grinned evilly. "I've got a fighting squad," he said. "We're gonna be right in the middle of the action, you bet." Then he frowned. "Wait - he said Trabia, didn't he. Shit! Shu, do you have any old uniforms? It's cold as fuck up there - oops..."

Shutat shook his head, laughing. "Chugi, I'm not going to argue with you. It's cold just about everywhere - and I thought you had winter uniforms already?"

"Yeah, well..." he sighed. "Do you know how hard it is to get the good gear? Tightwads. Total tightwads."

"I might have a uniform I've outgrown in my trunk somewhere," Shutat offered. "But if it's not up to par you'll get points docked for wearing it."

Naia sniffed, pretending hurt. "While I get to freeze!"

Chugi threw her a friendly leer. "Well, cold does wonderful things to the ladies," he pointed out.

"It's more like my chest is a lot flatter than yours," said Shutat. "And I don't think the jacket would close - and it wouldn't do you a lot of good." He thought about it, then said, "Come by my room on your way out, and I'll get you one of my blankets. If you're cold through your winter uniform you can warm up in that."

Naia, exuberant as ever, jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Owe you one!" she chirped, and darted off to her room, leaving Shutat surprised and Chugi laughing.

"Sometime you have to get your friends to tailor for me," he said. "You'd think people would get that Balamb doesn't _have_ a winter, but nooooo. Everybody figures you just put on a winter uniform and it's all peachy." He pulled out his cardkey and opened the door to their quarters. "Hyne," he said, slowly. "I just realized - we pass this, and we get our own rooms."

Shutat pulled his clothes press out from under his bunk. "Yes, that's usually how it's done," he said, checking the uniforms in his box. "Breath of the dragon, you're in luck." He fished out a uniform and tossed it over his shoulder. "One of my summer uniforms - in good enough condition to wear. I hit a growth spurt before I put too much wear on it. My mother was pretty annoyed about that." Chugi immediately started shucking his own jacket to try the offering out, as Shutat fished out his own winter uniform - multilayered with a leather outer jacket, in the fashion favored by Trabia Garden. A human would wear the heat-trapping uniform only if working outdoors in a week long arctic blizzard; Shutat needed it just to survive snow at all. "What's going on in Trabia that needs so many cadets?" he wondered. "There's hardly anyone up there that would cause trouble."

Chugi settled the borrowed uniform into place - not a bad fit, over all. "Haven't been watching the broadcasts, have you," he noted. "I'm betting it's that new mining colony. Humans only - no Shivas - and it reported big bags of money making dirt. Esthar or Galbadia wants it, most likely." He checked the silver embroidery on his cuffs and shoulders. "Yeah, this passes muster - nice and toasty. Works perfectly." 

Shutat, now dressed in the heavy leather winter uniform, pulled out the rest of his winter gear. "Glad you like it," he said distractedly, pulling out a hood and face mask, heavy boots, and heavy gloves. "If I find out who decided I was taking my test in Trabia, I'm going to have to hurt them. A lot."

"You're gonna be okay, right?" asked Chugi, as his friend's blue white curls and pale features disappeared underneath a mask that showed only his eyes and mouth. "Hyne, Shu...that's not overkill, is it..."

"No," said Shutat, strapping his flamberge's scabbard on over the outside of his jacket and settling the huge, wavy-bladed sword into place. "There's a reason fire gifts don't go to Trabia, Chugi." Under the winter hood, a smile was a flash of white teeth. "Let's go find out why the exception, if you're ready." He stopped. "Oh - almost forgot. Blanket." He pulled another box out from under his bed, and withdrew a blanket. "There. So Naia doesn't freeze - though she should do better than either of us, she's Winhilli..."

"Yeah, they do get snow down there sometimes," Chugi nodded. "Nasty winters, I've heard." He checked his watch. "We need to get going."

* * *

The blanket duly handed on to Naia, who stashed it in a pack, Shutat hunted out the members of his squad. Neither of them looked at all happy to see him, though they did find his excessive gear amusing.

"Man, you must be the life of the party at new year's," chuckled Horner. "Come on, get on the damn ship. I'm not losing points because of you looking like a homicidal clown."

Shutat said nothing; he knew - probably better than his companions - that everything around him would be under extreme scrutiny. He was the only one of his kind ever to join a Garden, and as such was an object of curiosity and concern for every authority figure in range. He wasn't going to say a single thing that wasn't absolutely necessary.

The transport was one of the 'missile ships' that the Gardens favored - designed to go very fast in a straight line, disgorging its cargo on a beach. They allowed the flying Gardens to send troops quickly to any continent, and could be retrieved when the more capable but less quick Gardens caught up to them. Typically, missile ships had a number of land transports on board, to get as many people as far as possible. Shutat filed behind his teammates - unconsciously creating a pattern of size, with the tall Horner in front. As far as Shutat was concerned, large mouths belonged at the front where their noise could be aimed outwards anyway. He followed them into the ship's auditorium, where the Headmaster waited, standing behind his podium. Behind him rose a large screen where he could point out mission specifics. Shortly after all the cadets were settled into seats, the ship gave a lurch as it was launched from the Garden.

Alois Almasy, Headmaster of Balamb Garden, was a man in his early forties, with the pale blond-white hair and pale eyes his family seemed to consciously breed for. Always present at his side was the legendary gunblade Hyperion, which he had demonstrated more than once he could use with talent and finesse. Usually on any student who dared to show the least bit of attitude in his classes. He taught advanced tactics, espionage, and - of course - gunblade combat. Shutat had had to train under him for a while, since the style of combat for gunblade was not dissimilar to that for a sword. It had been an extremely miserable semester; the man was merciless. But no one argued with the fact that the students he favored tended to have great careers in SeeD.

"Cadets," he said quietly, and immediately a hush fell on the assembled. Alois ignored it, touching a button on his podium that brought the screen behind him to life. It was a global map, slowly focusing in on the Trabian continent. "This is a joint mission; the citizens of Anarishe have paid for the services of ground forces and magic users, and thus you find yourself working with our compatriots from Trabia Garden." His contempt for the Trabians managed to be cutting without his having to change his tone of voice or expression; a slight stir from the Trabian cadets in the audience was just barely audible.

Alois ignored it, as the map behind him showed a red dotted line - the missile ship's current route. And a black dotted line; its projected route. "When we beach, each squad will take a vehicle and follow this route to the mining colony. Weather reports indicate blizzard conditions; you should be able to reach Anarishe without being seen by your enemies." The map focused in on the new settlement - a high wall of granite surrounding a collection of stone houses. Building stone was an export industry in Trabia; the continent was mostly rock as a result of some of the more spectacular Sorceress wars.

"You will find soldiers of both the Estharian and Galbadian governments in the vicinity," the Headmaster continued, as if this were no great matter. "Your mission is not to fight them, but to have them fight each other. You are to hold the settlement against all attackers, from any government. The people of Anarishe have indicated they feel absorption by one of the empires is inevitable, and will deal with the last army standing. We are to make sure that their settlement does not end up annihilated in cross fire. To that end, you are to remain at your assigned posts as long as possible. Both forces will likely attempt to take the town by force and hold it against the incursions of the other. This would result in Anarishe's obliteration. If this occurs, there will be no graduating SeeDs this year." 

Another screen; this one was a roster, listing letters of the alphabet and specific assignments, and an overview map of the Anarishe colony with squad letters superimposed at various locations. Alois waved a hand back at it. "These are your assignments. Those of you with a GF assigned to you should speak to Instructor Tefras for junction transfers."

He stepped down from the podium as the cadets read their assignments. Shutat quickly found his own squad's listing - Squad F was to guard a section of the southern colony wall, and Ike was their assigned junction holder; he was to be given Doomtrain. He didn't need to tell his teammate to hunt down Instructor Tefras; the boy was already on his feet and working his way through the milling cadets. Team leadership was assigned to Horner; depressing, but hardly surprising. Instructors tended to look at a mageborn in odd ways. There were many beliefs, both true and false, about his people.

Horner wasn't a quick reader; it took a minute before he bent down to put his mouth near - too near - Shutat's ear. "You do what I tell you, or you don't make it home."

Shutat had no intention of disobeying; he needed to become a SeeD far too badly. He was a cripple by his own race's standards - he couldn't hold a sense shift, his ability to call flame was sharply limited, and he had no secondary skills. SeeD training let him take full advantage of the skills and abilities he _did_ possess, which would let him hold his own once he made SeeD. He had no intention of making SeeD a career, but he _had_ to pass the exam. So he didn't risk losing points by giving Horner a snappy reply, but he couldn't suppress his irritation enough to prevent his eyes from shifting. Horner saw the blue-white glow and stepped back quickly.

"I could dock you for threatening me," he said, though with less bluster.

This merited response. "My eyes react to my emotional state," he said as slowly and evenly as he could; with his eyes shifted, he could see the heat leaving Horner's face. "Congratulations."

Ike came back, rubbing at his arm absently where he'd accepted his junction as Shutat's eyes faded back to normal again. "I've got fire spells, healing spells, and scans," he said. "If we want anything else I'll have to draw it."

Shutat did not like Horner's speculative look. He'd heard stories of SeeD trying to draw spells from mageborn. It didn't sound an attractive prospect. "We should get to our vehicle," he said, hoping to distract. 

It worked. Horner realized, as squad captain, it would be his job to drive. "Yeah," he said with a grin. "Let's go. Smurf, you get in the back."

This time, Shutat closed his eyes. Anger made his eyes shift, made his senses sharpen dramatically. This was not a good thing when what his ears and nose told him was that there were far too many nervous people around. _Calm down_, he told himself firmly. _I have to pass!_

Still, he had to admit when he got into the back of the standard issue hovercraft, having the entire back seat to himself wasn't really a problem. It meant he could loosen the straps on his sword and be comfortable.

Well, as comfortable as anyone could be in breath-freezing cold air in an open-air transport, anyway. The moment the hatch opened and the hovers started zooming out, he started fervently wishing regulations allowed him a heavier winter uniform.


	2. Field Exam

It would have been boring, if it weren't so cold. As it was, Shutat kept finding himself envying his brother's Shiva gift. Shivas lived for cold weather, he knew. Erlan probably wouldn't even have worn a t-shirt in this blizzard unless their mother made him. Shutat was thinking that not even leather and three layers of specially-made heat trapping fabric were enough. He was thinking that maybe he should've tried to bring a wall, or at least a tent. It had to be in the teens at least, and the wind chill below zero...

Horner drove the hover, evidently enjoying his day of leadership a great deal. Per regulations, no words were spoken that were not required to convey mission details; they didn't have an instructor in the car with them, but that didn't mean there wasn't a radio transmitter on board somewhere. Shutat wondered if it was only his imagination that his teammates were greatly enjoying his frozen misery. _We don't come here. We're not meant to come here. If Hyne had meant fire gifts to come to Trabia, She wouldn't try to freeze us to death every time we visit!_

He'd heard that Shivas lived in the open out here - kind of like a northern breed of Tarani. Just to have something for his mind to do, he tried to picture his brother bouncing around this icy wasteland in sealskin shorts waving a spear. It kept his mind off of whether he could still feel his fingers - especially when he added the mental image of his mother giving Erlan's ear a good twist for not being properly dressed. He grinned behind his mask at the thought. It was a good thing this was the field exam; if he passed, he could go home. He did miss Tear's Point. He missed his own kind.

The hover settled into the snow. "We stop here," ordered Horner. "Radar's picking up troops nearby. From here we leg it on foot." He gave Shutat a sour look - possibly envying the mageborn his heavy duty winter gear. "Hope you can keep up."

Shutat nodded; he'd keep up, all right. Once they made Anarishe, there was the possibility of warm rooms and hot drinks. Out here, there was only the certainty of freezing to death. He hopped out of the hovercar, grateful that his boots were high enough to keep out the snow, and drew his sword - a flamberge with a five foot blade. He held it easily in one hand, which seemed to unnerve Ike a bit - the weapons were meant as heavy, two handed things.

Horner, as the squad leader, set the hovercar in camouflage mode and keyed in the 'home' sequence so that it would fly itself back to the missile ship. Their way home led through Anarishe. Shutat was all but blinded by the blowing snow, and knew he would need all of his resources to survive a battle in this frozen hell. So he didn't senseshift to follow his companions' heat trails - he employed the more mundane solution of following them as closely as he dared. His ears picked up the sounds of battle, but he had no idea how anyone could see to fight in this. On the other hand, perhaps human eyes were better than his, under the circumstances. He had no way to know. But he was immensely relieved when a black iron door took shape in the blurry whiteness; they had reached Anarishe.

His squad leader took it upon himself to pound on the thing with his fist. "Open up! SeeDs!"

Shutat stared for a moment - there was a _war_ going on, very close by indeed, and Horner expected to be let in just like that? But the door did creak open, just enough to let the three of them inside. A large bearded man - who, to Shutat's shock, wasn't even wearing gloves - closed the huge door by cranking a winch and came to join them. "What squad?" he asked.

"We are Squad F," said Horner as Shutat and Ike immediately stepped into flanking positions. "We are assigned to wall defense."

"Right," said the man, giving Shutat's excessive gear an odd look. "Stairs up to the wall're behind you," he said in the lilting accent of a lifelong Trabian. "There's dynamite up there, grenades, rockets, whatever. Should be more'n enough."

Shutat certainly hoped so - Ike's expression clearly said he felt he'd just won the Esthar lottery. He was still wrestling with the ease of their entry, until he realized that of course they'd been let in. All three of them wore the black and silver cadet uniforms, with the cross-and-yin-yang emblem of Balamb Garden on their shoulders. The uniforms were very hard to forge and with the Esthari and Galbadians having at it a hundred yards off, it wasn't likely that anyone would opt for a SeeD uniform that would declare _both_ sides their enemy. He climbed the stairway to the wall's top with some reluctance - on the ground he was nicely out of the wind and at least not _as_ cold, whereas on the wall he'd be fully exposed.

His companions evidently didn't think anyone would be caring much about the rules concerning economy of communication while they were up in the wind and snow. Although they ignored him at first, both were quite chatty. Horner in particular had great fun pointing his machine gun at various concentrations of soldiers. "Fuckin' Esthari," he said, spitting over the wall for good measure. "Who're you for, Ike? Galbadia or Esthar?"

The thickset boy regarded what to Shutat were vague shapes in the blizzard. "Galbadia, but only after they get pulped," he said, then grinned. "Sorry, Horner. I'm Dolletian. Got a low supply of patriotism." He turned to Shutat. "Who're you for?"

Almost, Shutat said _Esthar_. Almost. It was his home nation, and in his way he was proud of that, but he didn't think it was a good idea to admit to it right here and right now. So he played his other card. "Neither," he said shortly. "Human wars are for humans to fight - none of my concern."

The answer made Horner laugh, but Ike looked canny. "Then why SeeD, blue-hair? If our fights aren't your problem, why are you _here_ freezing your balls off?"

Shutat really wished he could lie. It was a skill he had come to have great reason to envy in his human classmates. But being truthful wasn't the same as being honest; he was physically required to be truthful, but honesty was another matter entirely. So, after some time to think it out, he said, "I'm here for me. No one else."

"Thought so," said Horner. "I've seen your kind before. Fuckin' rats, you are. First sign of trouble, first sign you might be _wanted_ by your people to do some honest work, and you disappear." He reached into a box and pulled out a grenade, tossing it idly in his hand as he regarded the war outside. "Thought they said both sides would try to take the town."

Shutat was grateful that his face mask hid his expression - currently, he was busy grinding his teeth. Rats, indeed. _I'm not some ab Daear, you jackass. We don't run!_ Well. He'd signed up, and this was the final test. He just had to get through this alive and with a passing grade, and he could leave these Galbadian losers behind. The thought did not cool his anger enough for his eyes to return to normal, though, and sense-shifted he saw almost clearly through the cold and snow. "Something's coming," he said, trying to make it out. "Something big."

"About time," said Ike, unconcerned. "I doubt they'd let us pass if we just sit on our butts freezing for a few hours while everyone else gets the glory." He picked up a dynamite bundle. "Shit. Fuse. Anybody got a lighter?" He blinked. "Hey, Shutat. You said you set things on fire. Wanna light some of these for us?"

Shutat's eyes faded back to normal; he couldn't hold the sense shift long without getting a headache, and that shape worried him. He pulled a dagger from his sleeve. "I can light this, and you can use it to light your fuses," he said, worried. "But it's a big thing coming. I couldn't see it clearly, but - big. Very big."

Horner's hand clapped down on his shoulder - probably meant to jar him, though it failed at that. "Don't worry, little mouse," he mocked. "These are _industrial_ sticks of dynamite. The miners use them to open shafts and clear or close passages. One bundle will take out anything you saw." He looked out into the snow. "Assuming you weren't imagining things. Hyne, you lot are such cowards."

This time, Shutat used his rising ire - when his eyes shifted he looked past his squad leader into the blizzard, hunting out that large shape. Stared at it to fix its location in his mind when the eyeshift faded. "There," he said, pointing. "Look, damnit. You can see it now - that's not a cloud, Horner!"

Ike was looking, too. "Holy shit. You win, Horner. The Galbadians'll win. How they got it here - but that's a _tank_. They brought a fucking _tank_." Immediately he started gathering dynamite bundles. "Shu, you do that flamey thing. You'll be able to throw farther than we can, right? Take out that tank! If it reaches us- "

"Aren't we forgetting who's in charge here?" snapped Horner. "They won't use the tank on _us_, dipshit. They'll run over the Esthari cyborgs with it."

A flicker of thought and the edges of Shutat's dagger flared into red flame. "Give the order," he said quietly. "It's not going after the Esthari, Horner. I can see it. It's going to take this wall down. And we're _on_ the wall. We'll get crushed!"

Ike looked ready to give Horner a shake, his eyes transfixed as Shutat's were on the dark shape approaching. "Horner - come on man, I don't care what he is, I want to get out of this alive, pay _attention_ would you?"

Horner did, eventually, deign to look at what was horrifying his subordinates. Took a further fifteen seconds to verify their report that yes, the tank was heading for the wall. Nodded. "Right. Ike, you're on grenades. Shutat, get on that dynamite. We've got to stop that tank."

Shutat had only been waiting for the order. He touched fuses to his flaming dagger, hurled bundles of dynamite as close as his strength could get to the approaching tank. Ike was raining a veritable exploding shrapnel hail of live grenades. Horner's machine gun scythed down approaching enemy soldiers.

The tank stopped.

"We got it?" asked Horner, confused at its behavior as Shutat lit another bundle.

"It's still upright," Shutat pointed out as he threw it. "I want it in pieces."

Ike's jaw dropped. "Shit," he said faintly. "Oh, shit. Get it gone Shutat! It's not dead, it's gonna _fire_!"

"What?" asked Shtuat, shocked. Quickly, he threw his last bundle of dynamite and verified his companion's words - the tank was taking aim. Any shell fired at the wall had a good chance of killing all three of them. And - he judged the arc - his last throw wasn't going to be able to stop it, either. 

The next few seconds felt like years.

Shutat grabbed both of his companions by the collars of their uniforms and _threw_ them as hard as he could away from the wall. He wasn't aiming for anything, and the wall was high, which meant they might die of the fall - but there wasn't time to aim for soft landings and it was at least a chance, whereas staying put was certain death. And then he himself leaped away from the wall with all his strength. Distance was key - the wall was stone, and if it was blown apart any flying chunk of it could kill on impact.

Somewhere in midair, a deafening noise and a sudden push from the air behind him shoved him forward. He let it, remembering wind-riding with his mother as a child. The trick was to make the air hold you, carry you.

The air wasn't his problem. In the end, his problem was a building.

* * *

Shutat opened his eyes to a wonderful, _blessed_ feeling of utter warmth, such as he had not felt since the transport. Warmth through every vein, every limb. Opened his eyes, and found - Ike, casting spells.

"Oh, good," Ike said, relieved. "Thought I'd lost you too. The wall's toast, Shutat. Galbadians're causing one hell of a row in the streets. It's a bust - the mission's a bust."

"No one passes," Shutat sighed, moving his arms and legs just enough to realize he felt pretty much pulverized. He looked around. He was on a pile of snowy rubble - which told him he'd better get up fast, before he got snow-burn - and recognized not a single thing. "Where are we? In Anarishe, I mean. Where's Horner?"

"Dead," said Ike with a wince. "I went looking for him first. His head had an argument with a wall, and the rest of him had an argument with another wall about two seconds later." He shrugged. "Deling bastard. Anyway, I got luckier than either of you two - landed on a roof, and a big fat snowdrift. Less distance, plus cushion, plus junction - a few spells and I was fine."

Shutat looked up, and around. "And I..."

"Hit a wall with your back," said Ike, pointing out a snow-free patch of wall above them. "Pretty hard, I'd guess. Any ideas for getting us out of here? Like you said - the wall's breached, Galbadia's got the town, nobody passes. I'm all for living to try again next year."

"Good notion," said Shutat, getting to his feet. He was impressed - his winter uniform hadn't ripped. Whoever his mother had found to make it for him, he needed to make sure they got lots and lots of customers. He drew his flamberge, and decided that if his sword wasn't broken then maybe his uniform hadn't been in _that_ much danger. "I set this on fire, are you going to mind?"

"I'm counting on it," said Ike. "I'm no big fan of you guys, you know, but I'm even less a fan of having my intestines roasted on a stick. Just get me out alive, I'm not sayin' nothin' to nobody, okay?"

Reasonable enough, thought Shutat with a nod. "I keep you alive, you keep me alive," he said. "The sword will draw them - it's bright, and for Hyne's sake we're in Trabia. I'm probably the only fire gift for a thousand miles."

"Deal," said Ike. "Only do it now, cos - well, you and the blast got us a long way and the Anarishe aren't giving up without a fight, but we'll be up to our ears in soldiers any minute now."

Shutat whirled his sword in his hand, and it flamed to life. Speed - that was the trick. Go quickly, and the enemy often didn't know what to make of you until you'd passed. It was their only chance. 

Flaming swords were dramatic, but Shutat had already learned they weren't as useful as they first appeared. A flaming sword often cauterized a wound as it made it - meaning that unless Shutat cut off something vital, his foes often lived. This was wonderful for his conscience, especially when confronted with kin that were inclined to call him a butcher for signing up with the Gardens, but it was an extreme liability in actual combat. And he couldn't _hold_ the flame for very long - a few minutes at most, even in a crisis situation. Which this most certainly was. He bent the entirety of his will on one thing - getting out of Anarishe - and fought with everything he had. He barely noticed individuals - only weapons, only attacks. Cut off the hand, the arm, the head, whatever came close. Blades that came near him he set on fire, trying to scare their owners into dropping them.

His head was starting to hurt; he'd held the fire too long. _But if I stop now, I die. Headache is better than death!_ Which sounded great on paper, but in practice wasn't always true. Still, headaches could be cured...if he could focus through them. People were coming, as he and Ike fought their way through the town. To what had been the gates. Cadets were rallying to the flaming sword, visible at far greater distance in the snow than were uniforms. _Hah. The only fire gift for a thousand miles!_ He was a beacon to ally and enemy alike, even if none of the people that came to him liked him or his kind.

He had to stop. The pain was reaching a point near nausea. He ducked into a defensible alley and slumped against a wall - even the ice-burn being better than the pain in his head. "Can't...hold the fire," he gulped.

Ike took the hint and started casting cure spells. "Well, we're near out of town," he said, and looked around. "Who the hell are you guys?"

"I'm what's left of Squad B," said one girl, raising her hand. "I'm only here at all because I've got my squad's junction."

Shutat paid no attention to the introductions as Ike gathered information. All of his focus was on trying to see through a very ugly migraine. He couldn't stop here. Couldn't afford to. They had only a minute or two before they _had_ to move on, try to get out. Prisoners of war were expensive to redeem, and Garden would not be pleased to have to rescue them.

"They're stragglers, survivors of the blast," said Ike. "About half with junctions, the other half just real damn lucky. I think we can get us all out."

"What is this _we_ bullshit?" growled Shutat, irritated. "Everyone'll be following me and you know it. Following the sword."

"Well, yeah," shrugged Ike. "It's visible, and we need that. The transports'll see it too, come to it. But we'll keep you alive, and you'll keep us alive, and it'll all peachy." He seemed to note Shutat's pained look for the first time. "If you can? I don't know how many cure spells we have..hey, wait. You're a fire gift, we can cast fire on you and it'll do the same trick, won't it?"

Shutat's expression was almost bland - mostly as a result of his headache. "It will also burn my clothes off," he said shortly. "And I will then proceed to freeze to death in _very_ short order. Stick to cure spells, please."

"Time to go," said one of the cadets, near the alley's entrance. "We're running out of time."

"Showtime," said Ike cheerfully, as if Shutat could just whistle them all to safety.

_I wish I had the nerve to leave you bastards here to rot,_ grumbled Shutat to himself. He wouldn't, he knew. He'd never sleep again if he did something like that. Still, he hated feeling like a doormat. _Not two words for me the whole damn time I train at Garden, and now I'm everyone's best friend._ But if they kept him alive he really had no room to argue. He knew he couldn't get out alone. Taking a deep breath, focusing as carefully as he could, he brought the flame to life again and ran out of the alley.

Adrenaline did help the headache, anyway. Focus, focus, _focus_. He couldn't afford to lose the fire again - he had a vague impression of space, and realized they had managed to leave the boundaries of Anarishe. Some of the enemies were robotic now, Esthari cyborg soldiers. He felt less guilt over killing them - on the one hand, they were Esthari, and he'd someday go back to Esthar. But on the other hand, they only had human brains. All the rest was machine. He tried for the head or legs when he could, since cyborgs felt no pain. Focus, focus, _focus._

There was a place beyond pain that he'd only ever reached once. A heightened state where he could access his true Gift and use it. 

A Bahamut-gift wasn't just a Fire gift like Ifrit. The Bahamut-gift, at full strength, had the gift of _time_. Somewhere in all the fighting, he broke through the pain barrier and touched the Gift, and the red flame of his sword burned bright blue-white.

_Draiganadl_, he'd named it. Dragonfire, hotter than any forge flame, any Ifrit-fire. Hot enough to burn through steel - though it never seemed to burn the blade to which it was called.

Under _draiganadl_ he felt no pain. Felt, actually, perfect clarity. He could see what his enemies were going to do an instant before they did it, letting him work with great economy of motion and effort. To any observer it looked like his enemies just happened to put themselves in the path of a randomly swinging blade, but it was _time_ that was the key. Shutat could see into the future, just the necessary few seconds he needed to in order to anticipate.

Keeping _track_ of time was harder, especially in combat, and most especially under _draiganadl_. It might have been forever. It might have been only a few minutes. But Ike - who had been steering him with nudges here and there along the way - ran ahead of him and what had been registering as a wall became an open door. They'd reached the transport. Cadets rushed past him as he lowered his flaming sword, dazed. __

_I made it. I'm safe. I'm alive._

The flame died, the light in his eyes dimmed. The cold sword dropped from numb fingers to clatter on the steel grating. The strange sensation of knowing present and future faded with them. Searing, blinding pain rushed into the void.

Just inside the door of the transport, Shutat fainted.

* * *

Chugi wheeled carefully down the narrow corridors. Just his luck to catch the bullet spray with his side and not his chest; the medics had used enough magic to save his life, but he was wheelchair bound until all the cadets who could be treated were tended to. The mission was an utter botch - full SeeDs had been trying to collect fleeing cadets for the past several hours.

He was only interested in finding two. But finding two cadets, in the chaos of the failed mission, with himself in a wheelchair, wasn't easy.

"Yeah, we just followed the sword," a cadet said to a medic as his arm was bandaged. "He was going the right way, anyway, hard to miss."

"That should do it," said the medic, fastening the bandage-end in place.

"Whose sword?" Chugi demanded, wheeling up close to the cadet. "Shutat? You came with Shutat?"

The cadet's grin was wry. "Well, not _with_, I wouldn't say _with_, but in the general vicinity of."

Chugi was not in the mood for the word games Shutat tended to inspire in other cadets. "Fine. Where is he?"

"Like I'd know?" asked the cadet, affronted. "See me hanging around with mageborn? Not fuckin' likely, friend. I just used his sword as a beacon. Nothing personal."

"It's about to _get_ personal," growled Chugi, reaching up to pull his 'friend' down with his good arm until they were eye to eye. "I'm gonna use little words, and right now any wisecracks about size are gonna _really_ piss me off, I'm warning you. Where. Is. Shutat?"

"Hey now, settle down," said the medic, alarmed. "Shutat - that's the mageborn that came with you? He took the test?"

Chugi turned in surprise. "Came _with_ us?" he asked incredulously. "You've gotta be Trabian. Yeah, that's Shutat. Have you seen him? Or Naia? She's a martial artist, brown hair, brown eyes, about so big...?"

The medic grinned. "Yes, I'm Trabian. We're not _all_ mighty magic users, you know. Some of us have day jobs!" He pointed toward the hatchway. "The mageborn is out cold in the entranceway. We weren't sure whether or not to move him. He wasn't bleeding and nothing seemed broken, and..." he shrugged and indicated the wealth of serious injuries all around. "We've been busy." He reached over to his tray and picked up a potion bottle, which he handed to Chugi. "Spells are the only thing they can use," he said matter of factly. "This should help whatever dropped him." His tone turned curious. "He's really studying to be a SeeD? How odd. You'll have to tell me about it sometime when I'm not on duty."

"Yeah, yeah, sure sure," said Chugi, snagging the bottle and tucking it between his thighs for safekeeping, so that he could use both hands to wheel himself toward the hatchway. "Some other time." Stupid magic-obsessed Trabians. Shutat wasn't _like_ other mageborn, that was why he was _there_ in the first place, but people never got all the other things...

Chugi wheeled over more than one set of suddenly-distressed toes on his way to the hatchway. Cadets were still coming in, bloody and weary, but arrivals were infrequent. Just inside the doorway, off to one side - just enough that he wasn't impeding the traffic flow - Shutat lay on the grating that served as a floor, his sword a little way away. His uniform wasn't ripped, so Chugi assumed he wasn't bleeding or cut, but good _grief_ even as overworked as the medics were, they shouldn't have left him on the floor...

"Shu?" he asked, quietly. The cadet had followed Shutat's sword, which meant he'd set it on fire. Chugi well knew the kind of headaches his roommate got after doing _that_ for any length of time. "Shu? You awake?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Chugi sighed and pulled his wheelchair alongside his friend. Reaching down from his own uninjured side, he inelegantly hauled Shutat up off the floor and across his lap. "Get you looked at," he grunted. "Damn that leather's heavy..."

It was. Enough that he was busy trying to breathe and roll the wheelchair, and ignored the catcalls from more alert cadets as he rolled by them. Shutat stirred as they rolled down the corridor, and gave Chugi an odd look as he realized he was essentially being cradled.

"You were out cold in the entranceway," said Chugi, very quietly. "Can put you right back there if it'll make you feel better."

Shutat's expression clearly said he couldn't care less where he was. "Head," he gulped.

"Got a potion here somewhere," Chugi whispered back. "But if I go fishing for it people're gonna ask you when we're getting married and I don't need that kind of light on my dating life right now."

The humor completely passed Shutat by. "Sit..down somewhere," he said, barely audibly.

Chugi considered his options. The farther away from the entrance they went, the less likely a room was to be occupied with injured or resting cadets. On the other hand, it meant carrying Shutat on his lap past most of Garden. Resigning himself to a few weeks of explaining to female cadets that no, he really wasn't dating his roommate, he wheeled them into what normally served as a meeting room. "Think you can get up onto the table on your own?" he asked. "I'm kinda stuck here, till they've got all the cadets they can."

Shutat managed to wobble to his feet just long enough to stretch out on the meeting table. "Better," he breathed. "S'quieter here."

His lap now free of encumbrance, Chugi fished out the potion bottle and handed it over. "One of the Trabian medics sends his regards."

Shutat's hands - still in heavy leather gloves - made short work of the seal on the potion bottle, and he gulped the fluid down quickly. "Hyne," he said softly. "How long was I out? What time is it?" He turned his head, evidently noting his friend's condition for the first time. "And what the _hell_ happened to _you_? Where's Naia?"

"Must've been an elixer," Chugi grinned. "I don't know how long you were out. Check your watch and do the math is the best I can do there. Me...well, when the wall blew my squad leader said the hell with it and started trying to get us out. Him and the other guy we were with got most of the way between me and a ton of bullets at high speed." He shrugged, his expression closed off. "They died fast. I passed out from - " he indicated his newly healed side, "and I guess somebody recognized me - or my tat - cos the next thing I know I'm here and some doctor's shoving potions down my throat. I haven't a clue where Naia is. Thought I'd get you, then go look for her."

Shutat pulled off his leather hood, bluish-white curls spilling out onto the table. "Thanks," he said. "My head's still killing me, but I think I'll be okay after some sleep. I had the fire all the way from Anarishe to here."

"Then that was an elixer," said Chugi, indicating the bottle. "I'll tell that medic thanks if I can find him again. You wait here, and I'll try to find Naia."

"Yeah," agreed Shutat tiredly, and Chugi wheeled himself out again.

Shutat could feel the elixer flowing through him - trust a Trabian medic to remember that standard medications wouldn't have worked. But the problem with magical remedies was that they drew on the body's own reserves to function; his headache was gone, but he'd been near exhaustion from hours of close combat under _draiganadl_ to start with. He didn't think he could move if his life depended on it.

* * *

_Lines, white lines in the air. Not rigid lines, ruler drawn, but fluid lines - like threads. The threads move in different directions and at different speeds, converging and separating and making patterns complex and breathtakingly beautiful, which stretch in all directions as far as the eye can see. He is one of the threads, moving forward and reaching back, entwined with some threads and separate from others. He reaches out with pale fingers to touch his thread, but it burns to ash in his hand. The fire that burns it burns all along the gathering of threads, the knots, and some wither and fade while others endure the flames unharmed..._

* * *

Abruptly, the threads and fire were gone. Shutat blinked repeatedly, feeling a cold that had little to do with his body's sensations of temperature. Vision. That was a vision. He hadn't had a clear, solid vision since childhood - since before he'd been called on to light his father's pyre. _But why now?_ he wondered, worried. It was his Gift, but ...there were problems with that.

"You made it!" chirped Naia's happy voice into his thoughts. Unlike her friends, she seemed entirely unhurt - and she laughed at Shutat's derailed look of surprise. "I had the team's junction," she explained. "We were one mean magic using machine, really. Blue mage, berserker mage, and me! I think we were one of the few teams that didn't lose _anyone_." She paused. "Though we couldn't hold our position. Terence said we should get out while we could when Anarishe got overrun, so that's what we did."

Shutat was relieved to have something to smile about. "Glad one of us did okay," he said. "You might even make SeeD."

Naia perched on the table near Shutat's head. "Of course you two'll make SeeD," she said, "Don't be silly. Just because old prune-butt said nobody'd pass if Anarishe fell, don't you bet on it. It'd kill morale to do that, and the Commander won't stand for it." 

Chugi snickered, and Shutat was trying not to - he was too sore to enjoy it. "Prune Butt Almasy. Damn, I _like_ that."

"Anyway," said Naia firmly, as if there could be no question, "you'll both make it if I do. If anyone does." She ruffled Chugi's short red spikes. "Come on, since when has a Dincht _not_ passed the exam first go? Can you imagine the fuss your folks'd put up if the Headmaster tried to hold you back?" She wagged a finger over Shutat's nose, causing him to cross his eyes trying to keep track of it. "And you. You know perfectly well that half the Instructors want you gone as quickly as possible. Since they can't kick you out, of course you'll pass. Now quit with the nonsense, and I'll go see if there's a cocoa dispenser on this ship. We should be back to Garden soon."

She bounced out again, and the two boys enjoyed the moment of silence.

"Where'd you find her?" asked Shutat after a while.

"Coffee machine," Chugi admitted ruefully. 

"You know...I believe you," Shutat replied, and settled back to nap. "But I'm going to nap until they drag me off this table."

"Good notion."


	3. Junction

Due to the condition most of the cadets were in when the Garden picked up the missile ship, exam results were delayed for a few days to give them time to recover. Shutat and Chugi spent a great deal of time in their room, flat on their backs and being 'looked after' by Naia. As far as both boys were concerned, this was incentive to get better _really quickly_.

Twice a day, every injured cadet got a personal call from one of the Garden medics, along with whatever medication was prescribed. Shutat was spared the medication, but not examination. In the end, all he needed was rest and food. After a day of doing nothing but sleeping and eating, he felt almost normal - which meant he got to work with Naia in keeping Chugi both in his bed and resting, as the redhead was not the least bit inclined towards either.

Thankfully, there were potions and other magical remedies available, in enough quantities that all the cadets were at least mobile under their own power to hear their scores - or more particularly, whether they'd passed.

That this was even a point to consider was a topic of much speculation; Headmaster Almasy was not given to overstatement. And indeed, when the cadets gathered in the Quad, he did not look pleased.

"Somebody told him to pass people," Chugi whispered, and Shutat nodded. The only person who could make the Headmaster look that sour and get away with it was the Commander.

"Shhh," whispered Naia. "He's going to give names."

"The mission to Anarishe was a failure," said Headmaster Almasy. "However, it has been decided that this was not the fault of any actions of any cadets. Points have been awarded and deducted based on depositions taken on the missile ships and the reports of attending Instructors. Therefore, welcome the following of your classmates to the ranks of SeeD: Denna Alise, Chugi Dincht, Shutat ab Llew, and Naia Moasi. You four will go to the Commander's office for your assignments."

_I did it,_ Shutat thought numbly in the polite applause. _I'm a SeeD. I can go home._ He'd proven he could take care of himself under fire. Then the rest of the Headmaster's words caught his ears. "Assignments?" It was hardly usual for new SeeDs to be assigned so quickly.

"Yes, ab Llew," said the Headmaster with a slight, twisted smile. "SeeDs take assignments. And can be taken right back down to cadet for breaking rules. You've been given an order; obey it."

It would do no good to pass the exam if he ended up having to re-take it before he could tell his family he'd passed and show them the proof. He bobbed his head and quickly strode after his friends, who were already on their way.

* * *

The Commander's office was curiously shaped, built as it was under the stairs up to the second level. The office dated back to the second Commander, and had weapons on its walls that had been used by every SeeD to hold the office. Little plaques under the weapons named the weapon and who had used it and when, with a space above and behind the Commander's desk where his or her own weapon had pride of place. It was currently a weapon of double significance; not only was it the Commander's weapon, but it was also a weapon of legend - the Exeter rifle used by Irvine Kinneas against the Sorceress Ultimecia. 

The Commander himself had nothing like so imposing a presence. Commander Omar Kinneas was a man of about the same age as Headmaster Almasy, with his gray-streaked medium brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Although he wore the uniform of a SeeD, with all the proper pins, marks, and patches of affiliation, specialization, and rank, the jacket tended to be undone and rumpled, and the shirt beneath often spoke more about his sense of humor or current favored sports team than of the dignity of SeeD. A tiny diamond earring glittered in one earlobe, and a gold ring rested on his wedding finger; he wore no other jewelry.

When the four SeeDs entered his office, he was occupied throwing darts at a dartboard. The dartboard was currently sporting a much punctured picture of the Headmaster. Naia giggled; the two boys bit their lips in an effort not to laugh. Denna resorted to a sudden coughing fit.

"Ah, there you are," said the Commander cheerfully in a broad Galbadian accent. "Come on, have a sit."

Denna slanted a look at the other three; she well knew she was the odd SeeD out in the group. But she obeyed, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. The Commander walked around it to take a seat in his own chair, playing with a pencil.

"Denna, you did very well," he began. "Got your whole squad out alive, by the reports, and a few injured cadets as well." He nodded at Chugi. "Including this little punk. I've got an undercover job for you, if you'll take it."

"Of course, sir," she said primly. "When and where?"

"Deling City," replied the Commander promptly. "I'm going to assume you haven't got a problem working around mageborn."

"Sir?" asked Denna, surprised, then recovered herself. "I mean, no sir. What will I be doing?"

"Keeping an eye on events," the Commander said, grinning at her discomfiture. "Specifically mageborn policy. I've been hearing some interesting rumors about forced military service. You're going to make sure that doesn't happen. Kill who you have to, but keep the body count down, will you? Mass drafting of mageborn is a global headache I'd like to avoid."

"Yes sir," said Denna, nodding. "Is that all, sir?"

"Yep," agreed the Commander. "Off you go. You're there until I can send some other new SeeD out to keep an eye on them."

Denna rose, bowed, and left, and the Commander gave a good stare at each of the three remaining SeeDs. Shutat was wondering why Denna had been sent, when if anything _he_ would have made a better choice for such a mission.

"Well, well," said the Commander quietly. "First, I'm going to surprise you. All three of you earned your commissions." He grinned. "Which is good, because I needed you three for this. I'd not have wanted to wait a year."

"Sir," Shutat began slowly. "I have no intention of having a career in SeeD. I took the test to prove I had completed my education."

"Not so fast," said Omar, suddenly quite serious. "You're not going anywhere, Shutat. I said I didn't want to wait a year for all three of you - but the Gardens have waited almost five hundred years for _you_. Just you, Shutat. And you're not waltzing out until you've heard the mission."

Shutat looked to his friends, who just shrugged - they had no idea what the Commander could be referring to, either.

"Naia," said the Commander in a short bark. "Who was the third Commander of Balamb?"

"Seifer Almasy," she replied promptly, puzzled.

"What is his title?" the Commander demanded of Chugi.

"The Prophet," the redhead promptly replied, just as lost as Naia.

The Commander reached into a drawer and pulled out an ancient, delicate volume. "Right," he said. "The Prophet. The first - and damn near the only - Commander to pull off an advanced junction with Bahamut. All of his visions, he recorded here." His finger tapped the cover. "We've got electronic copies now too. And of the visions of the other Commanders who pulled off the junction." He put the book away again. "Shutat, you're in the book."

Shutat had the sinking feeling he wasn't going to go home. Ever. He well knew what visions were like. "What does it say?" he asked quietly.

"You want the exact words, or the modern translation?" asked Omar. "I don't know how it works, myself. Maybe if you hear the words you'll see his visions?"

"No, sir," said Shutat slowly. "The words are just...descriptions. The translation is fine."

"Well then," said Omar. "Basically..." he paused, thinking. "What we know for sure is that a mageborn will join SeeD. And that a mageborn SeeD will create a...kind of living time capsule."

"Sir?" asked Shutat, confused. 

"Don't interrupt," said Omar shortly. "Commander Almasy said it was very important. That you find it, you create it. If you don't, then if Ultimecia rises _everybody_ dies."

"This...time capsule," said Shutat slowly. He hoped he was getting across the idea that he felt his Commander needed more sleep without actually being insulting about it.

"I believe it," snapped Omar. "The Prophet had other visions and we've already seen some of them happen. You're some kind of key, Shutat. We've waited five hundred years or so for a mageborn - any mageborn - to join a Garden. You're the first. I don't want to find out that we don't _have_ another five hundred years to wait for a second. You've got to be the one."

"A time capsule," Shutat repeated.

"A haven," said Omar. "Seifer foresaw a - kind of hidden place. A place only SeeD knew about. Only a _few_ SeeD knew about. And the people in this place will be the ones who survive. You're the one that has to say where it is, and it's got to be right. If it's anyone else, it'll be found and we're all dead. If you don't find the right place, same thing." He leaned forward. "Shutat of Bahamut," he said. "I've never met a Bahamut gift before. I'm betting you'll know what Seifer saw when you see it yourself. I'm staking everything on it."

Shutat wanted to argue, very badly. He just couldn't. If it was all true, then Omar was probably right - if he walked into the parameters of the original vision, it wasn't at all unlikely that he'd have visions of his own. But he didn't want to discuss the down side when his friends would hear it. _I'll die. If I have too many visions, see too much, I'll die._ But Omar was thinking in terms of the whole world. One life for a world wasn't too much to ask. _Except that the life in question is mine!_

"This isn't my mission," he said. "This isn't what's going down in the logbooks."

"No, it's not," nodded Omar with a grin. "Officially, you're looking for the White SeeD, with intent to offer reunification."

"Excuse me?" put in Chugi. "Yo, other people in the room here. The White SeeD are a _myth_, Commander. Nobody's seen or heard a peep out of them in ages."

"They're not a myth," said Omar. "We've had six Sorceresses in five hundred years. How many Sorceress wars?"

"Three," said Naia slowly. "Just three..."

"Very good," Omar nodded. "And actually you could make the argument that it was just one really big multigenerational Sorceress War - the Sorceress Bria, completely bonkers, passed on to the Sorceress Este, also completely bonkers, and from her onto the Sorceress Callista, likewise nutty. But, funny thing, if you check the records, there are _six_ more Guardian Forces on record now than there were in the time of the Sorceress Edea."

"So...there weren't six Sorceresses, then," said Shutat slowly. "Six Guardian Forces means -"

"There were nine Sorceresses total?" Naia asked. "Or eight or ten.."

"Bravo," said Omar. "Except that some of them dropped off our radar without going crazy. They found Knights, didn't cause trouble. And eventually became GFs. There is no other way for them to hide from us so completely. The White SeeD _must_ still be around."

"But why hunt them out?" asked Chugi. "They're not bugging anybody, and there's no money in finding them."

Omar pulled another, larger but just as ancient, book out of his desk. "Because of this," he said. "The prophecies belong to Garden, but _this_ belongs to _me_. It's the personal memoirs of Irvine Kinneas. Including what he saw when he traveled to the future. And he saw black _and white_ SeeD at the base of Ultimecia's castle. They'd fought her together. We're going to need them. You're going to find them for me."

"And you honestly think I _can_?" asked Shutat. "Or is this just a cover for the prophecy fulfilment you're hoping for?"

The Commander shrugged. "If you find them, I'll die a happy man. Get them to work with us again, I'll die happier. But it's the haven that you've got to find, Shutat. The White SeeD could be anywhere - it's the perfect excuse to go anywhere, check out everywhere. And I'm going to give you help."

Shutat shared a look with his friends. "Look, Commander, we get along pretty well, but Chugi and Naia are no more experts on finding hidden SeeDs or havens than I am."

"Griever," said Omar. "I'm giving you Griever."

Shutat froze. "...Don't you mean you're giving one of _them_ Griever, sir?" he asked quietly. "You know what will happen if I try to junction. I was in the Infirmary a whole day with the burns from Ifrit. I'm weak for one, sure, but I'm a mageborn. We can't junction. You _know_ that."

Omar didn't even glance to them. "No," he said evenly. "I said you, I meant you, and unless you'd like to be a cadet again I'd advise you not to put words in my mouth. I'm assigning you the Griever junction for the duration of this mission. It's already said that it believes you can survive the process. When it says things like that, I'm inclined to believe it. Your friends will go with you, but I want you packing as much firepower as you can hold. In case it comes down to just you."

"Sir," put in Chugi, worried. "I was there when Instructor Veyn had Shutat try to junction. He wasn't the only one in the Infirmary afterward."

"Chugi, your family name only goes so far in this room," warned the Commander evenly. "I know what I'm doing. You and Naia are dismissed. I want you both ready to travel at first light tomorrow."

Shutat waited until his friends had left the office and the door closed behind them before glaring at the Commander. "Are you trying to kill me?" he hissed. "If the junction doesn't finish me the visions will! Do you know what happens to people of my Gift, Commander?"

Omar's eyes were almost sad. "Actually, I do," he said. "My family's always kept in touch with the mageborn, Shutat. At least, all we could." He waved a hand over his desk drawers. "Diaries are kind of an obsession of ours. What I haven't seen myself, I've read about. But let me tell you something - something you should have learned by now. How a man dies is just as important as how he lives."

Shutat sat back, slackjawed in shock. "And you think that makes me willing to stride forth to meet my doom? There's nothing in my training that says anything about throwing myself on live grenades or stepping on landmines for the good of SeeD, Commander. You're asking something no different."

"That's fear talking," said the Commander shortly, his kindly manner gone. "You're taking the junction. That's an order. If you refuse, I bust you back down to cadet. It's your call." He smiled in a way that didn't seem at all amused. "But I'll bet your family'll be real disappointed if you back out."

Shutat's fingers combed through his blue-white curls, irritated. _Blue-white. Not white, like they should be. Blue-white. Bahamut blue-white._ Omar was right. He'd had to argue his family down to come to the Gardens. Backing out now would gain him nothing. He just had to hope that it wouldn't kill him. "All right," he sighed. "I'll take the junction. But if you're wrong, that pension clause had _better_ kick in."

"You're not gonna die, Shutat," Omar grinned, and touched a button on his desk. "Send Zou in."

Zou, it turned out, was a weathered SeeD sporting battle-scars all over his visible skin, from faded to fresh. It was hard to say how old he might be; his features were worn but smooth. He could be an overworked twenty-five, or a well-preseved sixty for all Shutat could tell. Although he kept the clipped pace that many SeeDs adopted, there was an air of complete confidence about him - as though he couldn't remember the last time he'd lost a fight. He looked down on the seated Shutat with an expression of slight disdain before bowing before the Commander.

"You called, sir?" he asked.

Omar nodded. "Zou, this is Shutat. I'm assigning Griever to him. You'll take Eden."

The man straightened and stiffened. "Am I being demoted, sir?" he asked.

"Standing orders," said Omar curtly. "You know the drill. If I'd said you were demoted I'd have said how far. Transfer the junction."

Zou - clearly unhappy - held out his hand to Shutat, as if to shake. When Shutat reached out, though, the man scowled. "Haven't you ever taken a junction before?"

Shutat settled for shaking his head - making sure his curls moved, drawing attention to the bluish tint. Technically he had, in the abortive attempt to take the Ifrit junction in training, but that had been years ago. He'd forgotten about the skin requirement. Zou cast another look of an 'are you _sure_' nature at the Commander before replying. "Mageborn, you transfer a junction skin to skin. You can't accept a transfer with your gloves on. Take 'em off."

With reluctance, Shutat complied. He hoped the process didn't take long; the room had to be seventy degrees and was therefore uncomfortably cool without his gloves. Zou grabbed the bone-white hand as soon as it was freed from its glove, and said, "Junction transfer: Griever."

Zou was quick - it took a swift grip, or an expectation of movement, to keep a grip on a startled mageborn. Which Shutat certainly was; he felt an overwhelming sensation of heat and fur and feline strength, crawling up his arm. If a huge cat's spirit had entered his body, he would have thought it to feel like this. A huge cat. _Huge_ cat - he gasped for breath, trying to fight down the feeling of sudden weight crushing him, and staggered backward. He shook his arm, trying to dislodge the feeling of some _thing_ crawling up his arm inside his skin, and backed into his chair, breathing hard. Hot breath on his skin, crushing weight - and as he cast his eyes wildly around the room he saw two people there who had not been there before. "Who - who are you?" he demanded. He hoped they were medics. 

He wasn't expecting the looks of surprise and shock - surprise from Zou and the Commander, shock from the two strangers. The boy - he seemed no older than Shutat himself, but that could be deceptive - opened his mouth to speak, but the words rebounded in echoing volume across the interior of Shutat's skull. "Close your eyes! Tell him to give you an earring!"

Shutat's hands clapped uselessly over his ears - useless because the noise was already inside his head. As was the invisible cat-creature, crawling around his chest, climbing up his spine - it couldn't possibly be really there but every nerve in his body insisted that a cat was trying to claw its way through him. "Don't!" he cried, slamming his eyes shut. "Sto- stop it - it's crawling heavy - "

Omar was incredibly agile man for his age; in one smooth motion he vaulted over his desk and slammed his fist into Shutat's jaw.

* * *

Shutat opened his eyes with reluctance, feeling a pain in his ear and on his jaw, and a heavy weight on the inside of his skull. "You've got a junction," he noted quietly. He was on his back on the floor. He wondered when that had happened.

"Bahamut," Omar nodded. "Commander's right. Aside from your new shiner, how are you?"

He tried moving his head, and discovered that the weight was uneven and not quite stationary. "Unbalanced," he replied. "What's a junction supposed to feel like?"

"For you?" Omar asked, and shrugged. "No clue. You're the first mageborn to ever pull it off. One for the history books, eh?"

Shutat blinked once, slowly. He didn't feel like upsetting the thing in his head. "I'm alive. I'll settle for that. Mobility can wait." He pointed over Omar's shoulder. "Who _are_ you?"

Omar looked where Shutat pointed, then shrugged. "I can't see what you're aiming at," he said.

At the same time, the youth Shutat indicated managed to frown without adjusting a single muscle of his expression. "We are Griever," he said curtly.

But not alone. A girl - a Galbadian girl by the look of her - in a blue duster said the same thing at the same time.

Inside his head. Their voices were in his head. "Griever," he repeated slowly. "And that makes the cat-thing in my body...?"

The youth and girl said the same thing at the same time, in the same dry tone: "Also Griever." But unlike the boy, the girl smiled reassuringly.

"You can see Griever?" asked Omar, interrupting the other two.

"I don't know," sighed Shutat. "Can I just camp out on your floor for a few hours? I don't feel very good here, Commander."

"And I have a job to do," the Commander reminded him. "Which doesn't involve you trying out for my new rug. Take it slowly, but get up if you can."

Shutat raised a hand to his ear, which was sending sharp pain signals. He found he'd acquired a piercing. "Um...sir?"

"Leave it in," said Omar firmly. "You can see Griever, it seems - well, that earring is so Griever can see you, too."

Shutat turned the earring in its place experimentally. _That_ piece of work was going to cause comment if he ever saw his mother again. "Sir...how did you know I was seeing Griever?"

Omar's smile was small and tight. "That's a question for another time. For now, since I know you'll live, get to your new quarters. Rest a few hours before the graduation ball. I'll have the paperwork ready for you three to sign by the time you're ready to leave tomorrow."

It seemed pointless to ask what the earring did, or how he'd know where his new quarters were. Shutat leveraged himself up on his elbows, trying to shake the feeling that his head was both heavier and unbalanced. It didn't help that Griever occasionally took it into its head - or _his_ head - to prowl around the inside of his skull. Vomiting was starting to look like a good career move. But an order was an order, so he pushed himself to his feet - resting his hand against the wall for support - and gave his Commander a _careful_ nod of salute before stepping slowly out of the office.

It didn't surprise him much that Naia was waiting in the shadows near the door; he'd rather suspected at least one of his friends would wait for him, or come back for him. "You don't look so good," she said. "You need help getting to your room?"

"Probably," he admitted with a relieved sigh. Stairs would not have been fun without help. The two people who said they were Griever walked at his side but didn't touch him. He was about to ask Naia if she could see them when they answered for him.

"She won't see us," they said in unison. "Actually, you shouldn't be able to either." They shared a look before turning back to him. "Don't speak out loud to us. Think your questions in your mind. We can't see anyone but you, just as you only see us. If you speak aloud we must assume you're alone."

Oh, just _peachy_. He jammed his bare hand in his pocket. The air was uncomfortably cool and his glove was on the floor in the Commander's office and he was not feeling up to backtracking. "Where is my room?"

Naia slipped his free arm over her shoulder, keeping him on an even keel as they walked around to the base of the stairs. "Third floor," she said with a grin. "You've got the highest rank ever assigned to a new graduate."

Shutat was not feeling up to higher levels of thinking. "What...eleventh?" he asked vaguely as they climbed the stairs to the elevator.

"Twenty seventh," Naia managed. "Hyne, you're heavy. The room's pretty cool, Shutat. Me and Chugi got your stuff moved in."

"Twenty seventh," Shutat repeated vaguely. That was an officer's rank, an instructor's rank. He ought to be panicking, he knew. He hadn't done anything that would merit that kind of special attention. Cries of favoritism were pretty much guaranteed. On the other hand, it was guaranteed to have a toilet and a bed. Shutat's stomach was rebelling against the unbalance in his head, and lying down was mandatory.

"It's the rank given to the holder of our junction," said the girl in the blue duster.

_What, no double speaking?_ Shutat thought at her, and she laughed.

"You see us," said the boy with the scar on his face. "It's usually easier for people who see us if we speak separately."

_It does keep the dizziness down when I don't have to keep looking for both of you,_ Shutat admitted.

Naia punched the button for the elevator, then pulled a keycard out of her pocket. She inserted it into a slot over the floor selection pad, then punched the 3. "I was told to tell you that after today, if you want to get to the officer's level you have to use a thumbprint," she said. "I have to give the guest access card back tonight. Once you've print-keyed your room, you'll have all the access to everything you could possibly want." She grinned. "Chugi wants hot dogs."

The mention of food was not doing wonders for Shutat's stomach, and he gulped. _Stop moving!_ he snapped at the presence in his mind. 

"We're not moving," said the boy matter of factly. "It's all psychosomatic. Quit thinking about the junction and the feeling will go away."

Naia took the hint, at least, and led him in silence down the hall. He wished he felt better - he'd never been on the officer's level before and rumor was rife about the kind of perks officers could obtain. She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. "This one's yours," she said. "Stick your thumb on the pad and you're all keyed in."

Shutat pulled his bare hand from his pocket and keyed the lock. Although he registered the presence of multiple rooms - rather spacious by the feel - what he mainly noticed was a double-wide bed. This he staggered over to and fell onto with a relieved sigh. "Oh, that's better."

Naia laughed. "One junction and you're out for the day?" she asked. "You're faking it so you won't have to go to the graduation ball, aren't you?"

Shutat scowled. "Why should I go?" he asked. "No human's going to dance with me, and guess what - I'm the only mageborn here. If I'm going to stand against the wall all night, why not stay comfortable and do it in my own room?"

"Coward," Naia chided. "Oh! Right - I almost forgot. You're on your own thermostat. What do you want it set to?"

"Hundred and fifteen," he replied at once. "Low humidity."

Naia whistled, but set the thermostat. "Not big on visitors, are you?"

"I've lived for years on everyone else's thermometers," Shutat replied serenely. "It would be nice to not be cold while in my own rooms." He turned his head this way and that, looking around. It was much easier to focus lying down. "This is a really good setup."

Naia nodded. "You've even got your own kitchen - a little stove and sink and all. But if we're leaving tomorrow then I guess you won't get to try it out." She moved to leave. "We'll see you at the ball."

"The level's secure," Shutat reminded her. "If I stay here, you can't come get me."

She grinned. "But Chugi and I can take turns making your phone ring every five minutes - and you know what would happen if you took it off the hook and missed a call from the Commander!" she waved goodbye. "See you in a few hours."

Shutat waited until he heard the door close to relax. "Graduation ball," he sighed. "What a waste of time."

The Griever pair shared a look and a very small, private smile. At least, Shutat assumed the boy was smiling. "You should go," said the girl. "You can never tell who'll be there."

"Humans," Shutat sighed. "Mageborn don't go to the Gardens. My mother would probably rather cut her foot off than set foot in this one."

The boy with the scar on his face frowned at him. "Curls," he said thoughtfully. 

The heat was finally having an effect. Slowly, Shutat sat up and pulled off his other glove, and then his boots. It was such a relief to not be cold. "I'm from Tears' Point," he said. "In Esthar."

"We know where Esthar is," said the boy shortly, and the girl slipped an arm around him. "We were just curious about why you'd be here."

Shutat shucked out of his jacket, reveling in the unusual sensation of having bare arms. He held them out to his guests, showing how white his skin was. Not just pale, but _white_ - not a hint of color in it anywhere. It was faintly translucent, showing clearly the path of arteries and veins. "I'm Shutat of Bahamut," he said, using the standard human introduction. "I'm fire-aligned. I freeze like water in cold temperatures. I've got all the weaknesses, but," he drew a dagger, letting light shine on the blade, "only a part of the strengths. I'm ...crippled."

The girl frowned then. "That's not a word you should use to describe yourself. Thinking it is believing it."

"Oh, I want to believe it, Griever," Shutat retorted. "Because I owe my life to it. Bahamut gifts can call fire and flame, but what we _really_ do is see the flow of time." He lay back down on the bed, his hands behind his head and his curls spread out on the pillow. "If I were fully gifted I would be dead by now, from the visions." He closed his eyes. "That's why my family let me come, in the end. There's buildings in Tears' Point - in every city where my people are - that can handle a lot of fire, a lot of heat. When people of my gift lose control, they're taken to those buildings to die. I think the oldest was nearing fourteen."

"Be careful what you say aloud," said the boy in Shutat's mind. "This room has camera surveillance."

"The Commander wants my visions," Shutat said. "What he's asking - this finding a haven thing - it's something only a seer can do." He sat up, combing his hand through his curls. "The only way to guarantee the site I choose can't be found by Ultimecia is to _see_ it - foresee its survival. I can't control what I see or when, Griever. I've had exactly one vision in the past seven years, and it wasn't exactly helpful. I'm a _cripple_. I don't have as much of the power as I should. That's why I'm still alive, that's why I'm _here_ to learn how to make up for the lack...and now it's all..." He whumped back onto his new bed, frustrated. "The only thing I can see is you two. I can't do what he wants me to."

"We weren't sure what effect the junction would have on you," the girl admitted. "Omar told us that you weren't strong in your power. So we thought that this would give us a chance to junction. To meet one of you." 

"Congratulations," said Shutat tiredly. "I guess you have."

Griever said nothing, and - comfortable for the first time in a long time in the heated room - Shutat dozed.

* * *

_A storm is on the horizon, the wind blowing wet and cool from the sea to the south. The scent of jasmine; it is Balamb Island, he is sure. Jasmine grows everywhere there. But there is open space all around, and he stands on a patch of shale that juts from the earth. The twin cities of Balamb and Balamb Dock-town are not here, nor the numerous satellite villages that he has come to know._

_A pair of SeeD cadets are fighting. Both use gunblades; one uses the one handed Hyperion model - outdated except in the hands of an Almasy - and one uses the standard training model, the Revolver. He watches them for a while; he's seen this kind of competitive spirit before. Neither cadet will back down, neither will surrender. He looks around; light in the sky, reflected from the bottoms of clouds, indicates that their Garden is likely to the north. They've come here to duel._

_He wonders which of them will win._

* * *

The blaring of his alarm snapped Shutat wide awake. He slammed his hand down on it, cursing Naia's forethought in setting it at all. They tried, his friends really did try, but often they misjudged his hearing; he heard a much wider range of sound, a much wider degree of sound than either of them ever would. The alarm would have wakened a sleeping human; he was mageborn, and only dozing, and the shock of sudden noise nearly startled him off the bed.

With much grumbling, he decided that he'd better go to the Graduation Ball. Naia might make good on her threat to call every five minutes otherwise. He looked around; he didn't see the Sorceress or Knight of Griever anywhere, though he did feel a lot better for his nap. The sensation of a beast crawling around the inside of his skull had faded, as had most of the feeling of weight. There was still something in his head that wasn't _him_, but it wasn't causing any troubles.

We are still with you, echoed the two voices of Griever in his mind. But we did not want to watch you sleep.

_Fine by me,_ Shutat agreed. _I don't think I'd have liked you hovering like that anyway._

Junctioning wasn't so bad after all, if this was the worst he could expect. Checking the clock, he decided he had time to clean up and change. Which was good, since the Ball was a formal event. And the heat in the room was right in his comfort range; he grinned at the thought of being able to strip down and walk to the shower naked. It was a much more pleasant prospect than the usual tricks he had to pull with a heavy thick robe and slippers.

He showered in hot jets, and chose to dry himself in vents rather than with towels. He'd asked Naia to set the humidity low, so all he needed was heat to evaporate water. His curls were much more blue when wet, much more distinct. He tried to take advantage of that, working carefully as the jets dried him so that he didn't end up with a cottonball look.

"You're proud of them?" asked the Sorceress, suddenly nearby.

Shutat jumped. "Excuse _me_," he snapped, "But some people are in a less than dressed state right now."

The girl laughed and put her hands over her eyes. "Better?" she asked. "We were only curious."

Shutat relaxed, but only a little as he went back to sorting out his curls. "Yes, I'm proud of them," he said. "Or I would be if they weren't blue. They're not supposed to be. They should be white."

"Hm," said the Sorceress thoughtfully. "Why would you be proud of them?"

"Because they don't show up very often," Shutat admitted. "One in five of the pure blood, maybe."

The Sorceress cocked her head, her short brown-black hair brushing her shoulders. "Of the pure blood?"

"Ab Gwynt," Shutat clarified. "Brown or white curls. I'm of the white curls side, only," he wrapped a finger around one of them, showing her the bluish tint, "I've corrupted them."

The Sorceress removed her hands - though she kept her eyes closed - and hopped up to sit on the countertop, swinging her legs in the free air like any teen girl might do. "Who are your parents, Shutat?"

He blinked. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious how much _you_ know."

"You want...a full introduction?" he asked slowly. "You _are_ human aren't you? Why would you care?"

"Call it curiosity," she grinned. "Come on, tell us."

The use of the plural, when her Knight was not to be seen, was unnerving. "I'm Shutat Iigeru ab Gwynt ab Llew," he said slowly, wondering why this Sorceress found it worth knowing. "I am the son of Miranda, daughter of Iona, daughter of Kano, son of Tanaka, son of Manzo, son of Akemi, son of Roka, son of Cho, daughter of Kei, son of Kochi, son of Gwynt." After pausing for breath, he added, "And if that doesn't answer your question I have no idea what would."

The Sorceress laughed, lighthearted and happy, as Shutat - now dry and with his hair sorted out - started exploring his new quarters in hopes of finding a SeeD uniform in it somewhere. While the freedom to walk around naked was a nice change, he wasn't about to leave his quarters that way. Besides, he couldn't be sure that Sorceress really couldn't see him.

"We meant who are your _parents_, Shutat," she asked. "Like, who is your mother, who is your father?"

Blushing while naked was not a good thing. Particularly not with his too-pale skin. "Oh," he said, nonplused. "Miranda of Pandemona is my mother. Tacitus of Siren is - _was_ - my father." He really had to find that uniform.

"How many introductions do you _have_?" asked the Sorceress curiously, just as Shutat found a box in his closet containing what Balamb Garden considered 'winter' uniforms - the same cut and style as a regular SeeD uniform, with attendant gold embroidery, but made from a heat absorbing cloth. Shutat only found them comfortable within Garden itself, or in the middle of summer. But there was nothing else until he could tell his mother he'd made SeeD and get her to call the neighborhood tailor for something a little warmer. _I'm just glad I didn't listen to your advice, Mother, and go to school in Trabia. Tonight would have been terrible._

The fit was pretty good, though - Shutat didn't have a hard to fit frame. In fact he tended to look a lot better clothed; it hid the pale translucency of his skin, which could be intriguing in small doses but when naked tended to make him seem washed out - almost made of ice, which could not be farther from the truth. He fished out another pair of gloves and socks from his existing stash of clothes, and regarded himself in the full length mirror inside the bathroom door.

_I really am a SeeD._

There were pins of rank on the bathroom counter; watching carefully in the mirror, he affixed the appropriate combination to his collar. Two gold bars, one silver bar, two silver stars. Twenty seventh rank. And all he'd wanted was to graduate and go home. He looked at himself in the mirror for some time, trying to absorb how much his life had changed.

"All right," he said at last. "I guess I'm ready to be ignored all evening."

"Good," smiled the Sorceress. "Because I've really missed the Graduation Ball."

* * *

The Graduation Ball was something of a misnomer; most of the attendees were well past graduation. In general fewer than half a dozen cadets made SeeD in any given year; the dance floor was mostly taken up with older SeeDs who were between assignments, or Instructors. At least, that was the case among the uniformed attendees. The Ball was also a prime site for potential clients to recruit SeeDs directly, and given the kind of retirement packages the Gardens offered, SeeDs were considered good catches for well to do families as well. So there was no lack of people in the great hall - but as Shutat had predicted, none wanted to talk to him. Most mageborn could pass for human, but Shutat's own deviancy was starting to become more common - unusual eye colors, unusual hair colors. Humans, ever wary of the not-so-human in their midst, avoided such obvious signals like the plague.

He grabbed a glass of champagne and wandered over near the mini orchestra, sipping once in a great while but mostly listening to the music. His father had been an orchestral maestro - a natural post for one of the Siren-gifted - and Shutat enjoyed hearing orchestra recitals when he had the chance.

Naia cornered him briefly, insisting that he dance, but Shutat got out of it by insisting that not only could he not dance, but he'd likely end up breaking her foot if he tried. Chugi eventually saved him by taking her onto the dance floor himself, which made Shutat smile. The two of them were the best of friends, but only rarely lovers; very early on Chugi and Naia had worked out that theirs was a relationship best left platonic. Not that most of the Garden believed that for a second, other than Shutat himself. Both were outrageous flirts, a skill that Shutat both envied and much enjoyed seeing in action. He entertained himself for some time, watching his friends coaxing this wallflower and that onto the floor.

The orchestra struck up an old, old tune - traditionally played at every Graduation Ball, presumably on the order of some Commander or other. And Shutat was distracted - for Griever danced in the crowd.

_I wasn't aware Guardian Forces could handle waltzes,_ he noted, and the Sorceress laughed.

"Maybe once in a century," she remarked as her Knight spun her around.

"It's not often we are here to attend this Ball," the Knight noted complacently. "The song is for us."

_You're kidding,_ Shutat blinked. _Every year the same song, just so you can dance - if you're here?_

"Yes," the Sorceress laughed again.

"On such small details a Command is held," remarked the Knight. "Go back to your people watching."

Shutat sighed and took a swallow of the champagne. His powers were weak, but he still had the physical capabilities of his kind; alcohol did nothing to him or for him. He'd never really acquired a taste for it, preferring Esthar's wide variety of exotic teas. _Tomorrow we set out_, he mused. _I guess I'm in charge, since Chugi and Naia are lower ranking. Find the White SeeD? How do I do that?_

According to the Commander, the White SeeD had something to do with the formation of Guardian Forces. Guardian Forces, he had been taught, were formed by the melding of a Sorceress and Knight into one being - which lesson had been particularly well reinforced in the past few hours.

There _was_ one definitive archive of all known tidbits of Sorceress lore. The Presidential archives at Sorceress' Memorial. Scientists there had spent decades doing nothing but studying the phenomena associated with Sorceresses and Guardian Forces.

It probably didn't have the answers he was looking for. If it were all that easy, the White SeeD would have been found ages ago. But he could think of no better place to begin. _That's where we'll go. Sorceress' Memorial. It's not quite home, but it's at least Esthar._

The song was finished; he'd done his duty by his friends and his junctioned companions. Shutat finished his champagne and left the glass on a table. He'd go back to his room and thaw, maybe get a good night's rest for a change before setting out.


	4. Dreams

He woke when someone touched his hand, his eyes snapping open at once and his other hand grabbing a blanket. _Trust the Commander to make a surprise midnight visit on the first night in five years I can sleep in shorts!_

The Commander wasn't in uniform either, which turned Shutat's alarm at being woken into a greater alarm as to _why_. Seeing his Commander in the chaps of a Galbadian rancher - in his bedroom, in the middle of the night - was sending his wit-scattered mind down far too many unpleasant paths.

"Whoa there," Omar waved with a grin. "Nobody's after anything. Calm down."

Shutat wasn't taking his eyes off him while he felt around for the blanket. "Sir, the Commander is in my bedroom and he's not in uniform, and neither am I, and if there's a good reason for that I'd _really_ like to hear what it is. Right now."

"Look at your bed," the Commander shrugged.

Poised to whip around and fight at any second, Shutat did so. He would have jumped out of his skin with startlement, only it appeared that this had already happened. Behind him, on the bed, his own body lay apparently sleeping. Quickly he scrambled out of the bed, and found that his body (or at least what he had to consider as his _self_ since his body wasn't moving) went right through the rumpled blankets. "What the?" he started, and wasn't sure where to stop.

"It's a dream," said Omar - it was hard to consider him the Commander in that outfit - with a grin. "It's a knack of mine. I can do this on my own, and bring other people with me."

Prior worries and suspicions swarmed to the front of Shutat's mind again. "And you did this because...?" he asked slowly, trying to be calm and reasonable. In a dream anything could happen, and if it was Omar's dream then he couldn't rely on powers or gifts. He looked around his quarters, and decided if it came down to it he'd rely on a lampstand.

As if reading his mind, Omar raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down!" he said. "Nobody's going to be molesting anybody. Being here isn't great for your health, since you can't come here on your own. Think yourself some clothes and weapons if it makes you feel better."

Clothes sounded like a _very_ good idea. Shutat concentrated on his off-duty gear, which was warm and comfortable. A black polar-fleece longsleeved turtleneck shirt tucked into black leather pants that were lined with multiple layers of the same fleece. Lined heavy black leather jackboots that went most of the way to his knees and into which the pants were tucked. An ankle length black leather trenchcoat, also fleece-lined, with heavy duty black leather gloves. 

Black, in Shutat's view, was less a fashion choice and more a case of common sense. Black absorbed heat. Sunbathing in this gear on a sunny summer day in Balamb was the closest he'd come to bliss. The only accents were buckles - silver belt buckles around his waist and calves - and the small silver Bahamut pendant he wore around his neck. The back-scabbard for his flamberge went over his shirt and under his coat, so that the top of the scabbard rested at the base of his neck. It made the huge sword easily accessible.

Omar nodded at Shutat's easier stance. "Won't pretend to understand fashion, but as long as you're not scared stupid you can wear what you want," he shrugged. "Now - why you're here. I know you took this mission because I made you. Tonight, you're going to find out why." He sighed. "Look, Shutat...I don't want to force this on you but I'll do it if I have to. I've always got on well with your people, done what I could, and it's not personal. But you've got to understand how important this is."

"What is?" asked Shutat. "Dying? I can work that one out. If it weren't important, people wouldn't do it."

"Living," said Omar shortly, and vanished.

Shutat sighed. "All dressed up and nowhere to go," he mused, looking at his body on the bed. He wondered how difficult it would be to just _wake up_.

"It's not possible," said the Griever-sorceress - either stepping out of shadows, or stepping through the wall. He couldn't be sure. "We told Omar to bring you here so you could meet people."

"Ah," said Shutat, at a loss. "And here is...?"

She smiled. She did have a very playful, innocent smile, even with the oddity of her eyes - amber gold, and slitted like a cat's. "This is eternity. A place beyond time, beyond visions...beyond life."

Shutat blinked. "Don't tell me my Commander just -"

"No, you're alive," laughed the Sorceress. "Omar's power is to come here at will. With the earring he gave you, he could see you and bring you here as well."

He fingered the little diamond thoughtfully. "That's it? That's why he jabbed me with it?"

"Well," she smiled, "It's one of the reasons." She held out her hand. "Come with us. There are people for you to meet."

Lacking any real possibility of getting back into his body without help, and therefore having no better option, Shutat reached out and took Griever's hand.

* * *

Open sky, and daylight. That pretty much guaranteed it was somewhere on the Galbadian continent, unless 'outside time' meant it was always day. Shutat looked, but couldn't find the sun - the sky was clear and blue, but blank. It was exceedingly unnerving.

The Sorceress had brought him to an open field, which had to be pretty far out not to be part of a city-state. And there were people all around; he assumed them to be strangers until he saw one person sporting the white curls that were the mark of his own Line - and he had no idea who the man was. "What _is_ this? What's going on?"

"We thought you would know," the Sorceress replied, mildly surprised. "We understood the Reunion to be a universal custom."

Shutat was dumbstruck. "I...left home when I was twelve," he said quietly. "To join SeeD. I've only been to one Reunion...and I don't remember it very well. Just that there were a lot of people. But you said this was outside time? How do they know when to come?"

She laughed and patted his wrist, making an odd sound on the leather. "This isn't everyone," she said. "Only the ones we thought would help you understand." Gently she nudged him forward. "Go on - talk to them. It's a once in a lifetime chance."

He did as bid - walking slowly forward into the group of people, though he had no idea who they were or what they were to help him understand. Simply out of a desire to find the familiar, he approached the man with the white curls - and paused. Aside from the color of his hair, he looked completely Galbadian. It was mystifying; should he say hello or not? In what language?

The other saved him the trouble; with a quiet sort of smile he said, in perfectly understandable Esthari, "I'm Kochi Iigeru ab Gwynt of Pandemona. So...you're Shutat then?"

Shutat's jaw dropped. Of course he knew the name - recited it every time he recited his lineage. "I'm - yes, I'm Shutat. How did -"

"Everyone here knows you, who you are," said Kochi softly, watching the cloudless sky. "Griever said it wanted you to meet us, so we came." He smiled a little. "It's not as if any of us had plans, being dead."

Shutat didn't know what to say to that. The phrase _But you look so Galbadian_ kept leaping to mind. Kochi really did look more Galbadian than Esthari; he was rather short, with a slenderish build. His skin held the gold tone of Galbadian nobles, and his eyes, while pale blue-green, held a Galbadian tilt. By rights Kochi should have looked much more the Esthari noble than Shutat did - his particular line of descent sporting far more artists and scientists than nobles - but it was not the case. "Why did Griever bring me here?" he asked instead.

Kochi gave him a slanted, sideways look. "I should warn you that we can hear your thoughts," he said. "I'd not worry much about being polite." He shrugged. "My mother was half and half. I got...just about everything from her, really, apart from the curly hair that honestly I could have done without. I ought to apologize for that, really." Then, switching tracks before Shutat could process the revelation, he said, "We're supposed to make you understand who you are."

"I can recite my ancestry perfectly well without added visuals," Shutat shrugged. "Who am I supposed to meet?"

"Well, most of your _direct_ ancestors have already gone on to the Judgement," said Kochi. "I'm one of the ones that stays behind. Kind of like a tour guide." He grinned. "I think you're the first _living_ person I've shown the ropes to."

"Flattered," said Shutat dryly. "Why you? You aren't the first of your Gift - that would be Gwynt himself wouldn't it?"

Kochi nodded, beginning to walk - and Shutat, having little in the way of options, walked with him. "They're not here," he said. "My mother and father aren't here. Vesta is, if you really want to meet her, but the head of our Line is gone." Something in the way he said it sounded amused rather than distressed.

"Why?" Shutat blinked. "Did the others of the Pride leave too?"

"Oh, no," Kochi demurred, pointing. "That's Nodwydd over there - that large group? He's the one with the black hair. Taran's the one with his head in the blond's lap, that's Quistis Trepe. Those two girls with the dark hair, holding hands? Chwaer and Cariad." He pursed his lips. "You'll have to take it on faith that Daear is here in eternity. She's just not _here_ - at this reunion. We didn't think you'd mind."

"No..." said Shutat vaguely, his attention caught by something else. "Who's he? The blond in the white uniform."

Kochi's tone shifted to one of weary endurance. "That would be Jerolin," he said. "Jerolin Trepe ab Taran of Alexander - and a right pain in the butt if you ask me."

"He's in a white SeeD uniform," said Shutat. "And I've been told to find the white SeeD. Hold on while I ask."

"It won't do you any good," Kochi shrugged. "But if you like banging your head on the wall..."

He stayed put as Shutat strode over to talk to Jerolin, who was engaged in a conversation with Taran and Quistis. Shutat was absorbed enough in finding an easy solution to his 'mission' - since it was only a cover mission - that for the moment he was willing to deal with the consequences of interrupting such important figures. "Jerolin?" he asked. "Are you a white SeeD?"

All three fell silent; two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of grey turned to look at him. "I was," the blond man nodded. He adjusted his uniform jacket - identical in cut to the one Shutat wore when on duty, only white. And where Shutat's shoulder sported the yin-yang-and-cross of Balamb, this man wore an eight rayed golden star. And for some reason large gold bands at the end of his sleeves, above which were rings of gold stars, though he wore an Administrator's gold star on his collar. "I was captain of the _Southern Star_, Fleet Admiral of the White SeeD."

Shutat blinked, barely registering Taran's small sigh and Quistis' pursed lips. "So...you could tell me where to find them, then?" he asked hopefully. "Only Commander Kinneas -"

"No," said Jerolin flatly. "That is, I could tell you. But I'm not going to."

"What?" Shutat asked. "Why?"

"Because I'm the one that separated them from the Black in the first place," said Jerolin shortly. "If the time has come to reunite the halves, then you'll prove it by taking the time and effort to find them and reconcile yourselves with them - which as far as I know has never once occurred. No. I won't make it easy on you. You should never have joined up with the murderers in the first place."

Shutat was very much taken aback - shocked, even. Oh, he'd heard the sentiment before - mageborn as a rule regarded SeeD as being only one step above hit men. Some would say not even one step above - just publicly accepted hit men with better clothes. It was not that attitude which shocked Shutat. It was that Jerolin could tell him this _while wearing a SeeD uniform himself_. The level of hypocrisy was such that Shutat was fighting down an urge to beat the Alexandrite's holier-than-thou arrogance in with his fists. They stood, staring at each other in silence for a long moment, before Jerolin nodded slightly.

"You want to fight," he said quietly. "You're alive. You broadcast your thoughts to everyone here. You want to fight. You want to fight _me_." He smiled - to Shutat's utter surprise, he smiled genuinely, honestly pleased. "But you aren't fighting. You're a black SeeD and an ab Gwynt, and you're not fighting." He nodded slightly. "You just might be able to do what you intend, Shutat." With a bow to Taran and Quistis, he said, "Father? Mother? I'll be back later," and then he disappeared. Simply vanished, without a puff of smoke or even a pop of sound.

Shutat only blinked; he was still bordering on furious, but now he had no target.

"Told you it wouldn't do any good," said Kochi mildly, appearing suddenly at his elbow. "Jeri's got a rod up his butt the size of the old Ragnaroks. If you want to know why mageborn don't have kings, he's pretty much it."

"Yes, _thank_ you Kochi," said Quistis peevishly, getting to her feet and brushing off her peach skirt. "I apologize for dying before I could teach him when to step down."

Taran had the expression of a man who had heard this argument so many times he'd memorized the script. "Kochi...some time alone if you please?"

Kochi grinned. "Sure." 

Just then, out of nowhere, a lithe and slender girl with short red hair and gray eyes appeared, nearly bowling Kochi over in a tackle. "Smoochies!" she cried cheerfully, and proceeded to literally smother Shutat's ancestor with kisses.

Shutat discovered that it didn't really make any difference if it was your mother, your grandfather, or your who-knew-how-many-times-over great-grandfather. The idea of them having a sex life made you want to cringe anyway. By her speed - faster than Kochi - she could be only one gift; Cerberus. "Um..." he said, and the girl leaped up off of the grinning but still a little bemused Kochi and held out her hand. "Fleta," she said cheerfully. "Oh, wow, _blue_, Kei never had blue..."

"Shutat of Bahamut," said Shutat, taking her hand and shaking it quickly. His run ins with Cerberus gifts told him just about everything with that Gift could be considered a use-it-or-lose-it proposition.

He wasn't expecting Fleta to get upset. "Bahamut?" she asked. "But - you've got to be at least sixteen -" she turned to Kochi. "He's at least sixteen isn't he? He got to grow up and -"

"Fleta, he's not dead," Kochi said gently. "Shutat is alive."

"And seventeen, thank you," Shutat added.

Fleta whirled on him, abruptly furious. "That is _not fair_," she snapped, and disappeared. Kochi slumped a little and sighed.

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "She wasn't invited - she was just looking for me. Her attention span is generally...rather short."

Shutat was still getting over it. "Not fair?" he asked.

"Her first child was the first of your Gift, Shutat," Taran put in quietly. "No one at the time knew what would happen. She watched Sophisma -"

"Die," finished Shutat shortly. "I can guess." He nodded to Kochi. "If she's still thinking about it, go distract her."

Kochi took a deep breath. "You don't want to meet Sophi?" he asked. "She's here, you know."

Shutat's gaze was entirely level, his voice perfectly calm. "I know how I'll die, Kochi," he said evenly. "I don't need my Gift, or my ancestors, or anyone else to tell me. I'm sorry I upset Fleta."

"I'd better go," said Kochi, and gave Shutat a wave. "Call me if you need me." And then he, too, disappeared.

Shutat turned back to Taran and Quistis, and it was only then that he thought to be self conscious. His people's history was almost completely oral - stories told from parent to child about whatever was considered important. Mostly, those stories revolved around the first six mageborn, traditionally called the Lion's Pride, or the Pride. Shutat didn't know all the stories, having spent several years away from his kind, but everyone knew about Taran. Taran was the exile, the songwriter, the wanderer...and the king. The one mageborn ever to live who could call on _all_ the lines, at any time, and have them answer and obey.

And he was an unprepossessing young man a few inches shorter than Shutat was himself, with maple brown hair in a long braid that reached to his waist and bangs that fell into his gray eyes, and a pair of jeans so old and threadbare as to be borderline indecent. He wore neither shirt nor shoes, but a large tattoo of Quezacotl - drawn in the tribal Thunderbird mode - covered his chest and stomach, with two black and two blue lightning bolts under the jagged wings. On his left shoulder were two more tattoos; a rather spiky looking blue crown was highest, and beneath that a swimming outline of a swan over a very intricate line drawing of a snowflake.

This was not in any way what Shutat would have imagined the mageborn king to look like. Or act like - unlike Jerolin, who almost radiated formality and procedure, Taran was very relaxed and unassuming. Shutat could imagine him thumbing for rides along the streets. It left Shutat at a loss; had he acted like Jerolin then Shutat would have begun with 'Majesty' or at least 'sir', but as it was he had no idea how to address the man.

"Hello works well," Taran laughed, and Shutat blushed. "I know. It's what you're taught. Just _please_ don't call me Master. I'd swear Kochi or Liam came up with that just to annoy me."

"Liam?" Shutat asked, redfaced.

"Ab Nodwydd," Taran clarified, indicating the knot of people around Nodwydd. "Liam is Nodwydd's son - with a unique sense of humor."

"Oh," said Shutat, feeling that he was supposed to say something. "But Jerolin -"

"Is my son," nodded Taran, then grinned at Quistis. "Well. Mostly _her_ son, but I'm just as much to blame. He had a lot to live up to - don't take him personally."

The frustration returned. "I don't want to criticize, sir, but - the Commander gave me a mission. He could've been a big help. _I_ never did anything to him."

"Jeri does what he thinks is right," said Quistis quietly, but firmly. "Always. Not what's right for him, but for everyone."

"And my Commander's just delusional?" asked Shutat heatedly, and then paused. "Okay...I could make a case for that, but it wouldn't be a good one. Commander Kinneas has done a lot of good work with Balamb." He sighed. "Why'd he separate the halves anyway? We're all SeeD aren't we?"

"No," said Taran firmly, shaking his head. He indicated the tattoos on his shoulder. "I served with the white SeeD for a while. Quistis, you well know, served with the black. Their missions are complimentary, but opposite - just like the yin yang on Balamb Garden's flag."

"But with only one half you don't get a yin yang," said Shutat heatedly. "You just have - I don't know, a funky looking tadpole or something."

Quistis laughed into her hand; Taran grinned, but shook his head. "Okay, that image is going to stay with me a while." He turned to Quistis. "Remind me, next time we see Killian around."

"Over there," said Quistis, indicating with her hand. "It looks like he's doing a game with Selphie and Fuujin."

"Who?" asked Shutat, surprised, but Taran drew his attention.

"They're here," he said. "Selphie, Fuujin, Irvine, Quistis of course - they're all here. But before you go talk to them I should tell you a few things."

Shutat wasn't sure what to make of that. "All right?"

"First," said Taran evenly, "The white and the black SeeD split over a Sorceress and her Knight. That's where their missions differ, Shutat. That's where they've always been different. The Black SeeD exist to contain or destroy Sorceresses who become a threat to the world. At times, they've just gone after Sorceresses for existing. The White SeeD exist to shelter Sorceresses or any persecuted people - find them and hide them as it were. At least once that I know of, though, they've hidden a Sorceress they shouldn't have shielded - or didn't treat properly, because she went mad. Both sides have made mistakes. But they're not the same organization, not at the core, even though you _need_ both sides to keep magic from destroying the world."

"So...Jerolin's right and I'm wrong?" Shutat asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No," said Taran. "Because frankly I don't like either side. I was a guest of both at different times, and both sides nearly killed me. So you could say I'm impartial in my distaste. But this mission of yours is going to put you with the White SeeD and that means you need to know what drives them. And the Sorceress and Knight that split the halves, Shutat...the Knight was a mageborn. The sorceress escaped to the White SeeD with a lot of help from mageborn, too."

Shutat wondered why that would matter at this late date. Thinking it over, he thought he understood. "Jerolin was Fleet Admiral - that's Commander, isn't it," he said, and Taran nodded. "So...the White were accused of playing favorites - shielding someone they shouldn't because it was personal?"

"Yes," Taran nodded. "One of Jeri's cousins, even, which made it worse. The timing was all....all wrong. But Jeri - well, you've seen. He didn't care about the politics of it, only his ideals and his mission. Rather than see those tarnished, he hid the entire fleet and set measures in place so they'd stay hidden. That's why he won't help you. You're not the first to wear the black uniform and be told to find the White SeeD. You're just the first _mageborn_ to do it."

"That's probably why me," sighed Shutat. "In case they're still playing favorites." He paused. "You served, you said. Could you tell me where to look?"

Taran shook his head. "I do not agree with my son's methods, Shutat," he said regretfully. "But I do agree with his intent. If I told you where to look you could find them in a week or two - and you're not ready. You haven't seen enough of the world to understand." He grinned. "Besides. You've already been given a ton of clues. Who am I to spoil the puzzle?"

Shutat could only stare. "Sir, you might be just a _little_ behind the times here. I don't have fifty years to work this out."

"You won't need fifty years," laughed Taran. "If you even take _one_ year I'm going to be very, very disappointed."

Quistis, too, was wearing an amused look. "He's not very good at seeing what's in front of him," she noted, and stood up to poke Shutat in the chest. "I'll bet your Headmaster has had a lot of words with you about it, too."

"What?" asked Shutat, startled because yes, Headmaster Almasy had said exactly that. Less politely, of course.

"Well," said Taran to Quistis, "Since it's part of what he's here to see, I guess we'd better help matters along."

Shutat was just about to ask what on earth Taran meant when the Griever-Knight appeared - standing behind where Taran was sitting. Rather than being startled, the mageborn king got to his feet and stood at the Knight's left side, as Quistis stood at his right. All three watched him pointedly, telling him this was something he was supposed to figure out. He wasn't sure what he was _supposed_ to see, but he did know what he _did_ see. The only striking difference between Taran and Griever's Knight was the scar across the Knight's face. "You're related," he said slowly, blinking. "You've got to be." After trying to remember names in his head, he added, "But...there's only six in the Pride. Taran, Gwynt, Nodwydd, Daear, Cariad, Chwaer. If there was a seventh I'd know, I'm pretty sure about it."

Taran put a resigned palm to his face, grinning in a rueful way as Quistis made an exasperated noise. "Oh, he's Gwynt's all right. Dense as a brick." She flicked his forehead with a finger. "Shutat, did it never occur to you to wonder where the _Pride_ came from? Or why they're called that?" She waved a hand at the large group of people around them. "We're all here. Griever told you that, Kochi told you that. Selphie, Irvine, Fuujin, Raijin, me, Zell...we're _all_ here."

The Knight simply watched quietly, though the white fur of his jacket's collar gave the impression of bristling as he crossed his arms over his chest. Shutat was getting the uncomfortable feeling he was taking a kind of intelligence test, and failing. _We're all here,_ he mused. _Who else is here? Pride and Six. Taran, Gwynt - no, Kochi said he's gone but there's no way this Knight is Gwynt. Nodwydd, Daear, Cariad, Chwaer...that's Pride...Zell, Quistis, Irvine, Selphie - Squall, Rinoa! And Seifer. But Fuujin is here. So it's just Squall and Rinoa that I haven't seen as a pair..._

The Knight nodded once, a short jerk of the head. "Yes," he said.

"You're..._Squall_?" Shutat all but squeaked - undignified, but the idea of such a famous historical figure prowling around the back of his brain was giving him the shivers. But now that the name occurred to him it all fit. Scar, furry jacket, the gunblade he wore belted at his waist, the lion necklace...lion necklace...he looked again from Squall's face to Taran's. "Not brothers," he said. "Father and son."

"That's why you can junction Griever," nodded Taran, as the Griever sorceress - Rinoa, Shutat now understood - appeared and looped her arm into Squall's. "You're - well, you're a descendant. All the mageborn are."

"You live for a reason," said Squall quietly. "Griever lives for a reason. We stop Ultimecia."

"There's a little debate about that," said Quistis, taking Taran by the hand. "But we won't bore you with it right now." 

"One more thing," said Taran as he stepped to Quistis' side. "If you do find the White SeeD, give the avatar my regards." Rather than disappearing, she and Taran walked over to the main group of people.

"You're a Guardian Force," said Shutat, still reeling from the notion he had a famous ancestor running around his brain, so that Taran's cryptic remark passed right over his head. "You don't need me or anyone else."

"We do," said Rinoa quickly. "We are the strongest Guardian Force, Shutat, but we don't have your power. We can't see the future. We can't see what paths to avoid to keep Ultimecia from rising. You can."

"I can't!" snapped Shutat. "I don't have control of the visions! None of my Gift ever have! We just - see. And keep seeing until it kills us. And we don't even know half the time if it's the past or the future, and we hardly _ever_ know _who_ we're seeing. It's not a great and wonderful gift, Rinoa, it's a curse!"

"We've seen a lot of history," said Squall evenly. "And some of the future. We might be able to identify who you see. When you see. We have alliances with many Guardian Forces, Shutat, but not all. One of the ones apart is Bahamut - who does control what it sees and when. We know Bahamut is working toward something, but we don't know what. It is a very old Guardian Force, Shutat. One of the oldest, if not _the_ oldest. It doesn't like humans. It might well be working to bring about Ultimecia's rise so as to be free when she does show up; the fact that all human life would be destroyed means nothing to it."

"I am _of_ Bahamut," said Shutat. "That's my gift. And you want me to tell Bahamut where to shove it? Would you like to tell me where I'm going to be buried while you're at it? We're nothing to you - mageborn powers are nothing to the real Guardian Forces."

"We know," said Rinoa. "Taran was tortured once with that knowledge. He told us about it. We're not asking you to go toe to toe with Bahamut. Only to tell us what you see, and when." She looked pensive. "We can't shake the feeling that it's already too late, you see. That Ultimecia is an inevitability."

"And if that's the case," added Squall, "Then the entire game becomes survival. Bahamut doesn't care one way or another about humankind - we're fairly sure about that. So - if we can make sure humankind survives whatever it's planning, we don't think it will work against us."

"And you couldn't just tell me this," said Shutat. "You couldn't tell me. You had to bring me here. Why?"

"Because you're connected," said Rinoa. "You're part of the ultimate mission of SeeD. It's not just a - a revenue generator or something. We couldn't tell you that and have you believe it. You have to see it for yourself."

"There's....lots of mageborn," said Shutat. "And all of them are your descendants. Why me? I'm probably not even the only Bahamut gift."

"You're the only one that came to SeeD," said Squall. "We didn't choose you. You chose yourself. Are you going to help?"

"You can tell me what I see?" Shutat asked. "I suppose that's worth something. And...there's no denying the gift. I might as well try to put it to good use." In his mind he was thinking over Omar's words to him: _how a man dies is just as important as how he lives._ It was a very, very cold comfort. It was one thing to watch, in a movie say, a hero facing torture and death with bravery and courage. It was quite another to look at that torture and death and know you would suffer it yourself, in due time, and nothing you did would change it. Was it really courage if you knew you were dead in any case?

Did he really have to die at all? He could go home, right now. Leave SeeD. As a cadet if he had to. His mother would certainly do her best to make sure he never had to use his power again, never had to fight. She hadn't wanted him to come to SeeD in the first place. But...he'd be a coward. He'd chosen to come to SeeD, to the Gardens. To leave in dishonor, a discredited cadet instead of a SeeD as he'd tried to become..._we are ab Gwynt,_ his mother had said once, after his father died. _We don't run. If we die, we die fighting._

Yes, his mother would shield him. Protect him. In a way, that was her duty as his mother. But he would be shamed. It wasn't enough, not of itself, to make him leap forward and embrace the fate that Griever was holding out to him. He didn't care one way or another if he were remembered by future generations. He didn't care about fame, or recognition. But he did care a great deal about independence. If he went home, if he refused, he would be dependent on his kinfolk. He would have nothing to contribute, nothing to offer in exchange for their support. Oh, he'd _have_ that support, but the debt would always be there. He'd die in their debt. And the idea of owing anyone that much, for that long, when it wasn't even guaranteed to do any good - no. Self reliance was built into his very thoughts - you neither asked for favors nor indiscriminately offered them. 

He was still afraid - enough so that he knew thinking in any depth about what he was agreeing to do might send him running the other way. But SeeD trained to risk their lives all the time. They trained to live with that risk. Looked at that way, this mission was no different from any other. This choice, no different from the choices made by any other SeeD in the line of duty. He nodded, knowing Griever would have been following his thoughts.

"Then it's time to go back," said Squall. "Eternity is not a good place for the living to stay."

Shutat nodded. Meeting any more ancestors or other famous persons would just serve to make him feel that he was an idiot for standing in their company. And tomorrow he had a lot of ground to cover; he needed some sleep.


	5. Esthar

Shutat opened his eyes to find himself in his bed, in his room, and everything as it should be. Except that he knew that his 'dream' hadn't been a dream, or even a vision, but quite real. He looked around, but neither Squall nor Rinoa were anywhere to be seen.

**We are still with you,** said their voices in his mind. **But not at your side unless there is reason. Watching you sleep is hardly entertaining.**

Well, of course not. Since he was leaving the Garden, and his mission wouldn't require him to wear his uniform all the time, he dressed in his 'casual' gear - the leathers that he'd worn in his dream. He found it much more comfortable then formal attire, but he packed his uniform anyway. At some point he'd find the White SeeD, and at that time it would probably be a good idea if he could pull out the formal wear. In the meantime, properly packed, it would make a good pillow.

Of course, he hid a great many blades about his person. His half-Gift was limited to edged weapons; it was a good idea to always have a few of them handy. Most people were distracted by the huge flamberge, and never noticed the quantity of daggers he could produce. It was a handy thing to know.

**Pack a journal,** suggested Griever. **So that your visions are recorded.**

_Why?_ asked Shutat. _I don't usually talk about them. People don't want to know that kind of thing, and I include myself in 'people'._

**Because you are becoming a nexus,** Griever said unhelpfully. **And what you see may be relevant in ways you do not now understand.**

_I suppose five hundred years or so would give you an edge in the perspective category,_ Shutat conceded, and fished out a blank journal from the room's desk. The heading was 'Memories' - understandable, he supposed, since officers often worked with GFs and the attendant memory loss associated with junctions. He packed it into his bag, along with writing implements. When he felt himself as prepared as he was going to get - until he could get his mother to order him a proper set of winter gear in SeeD black and gold - he hefted his pack over his free shoulder and left the room. The relative cool of the hall - about forty degrees cooler than his rooms' temperature - shocked him back into awareness of where he was. This was not a place where he was free to be at ease. Unconsciously he slipped into the clipped stride of SeeD, his thoughts shifting from his native Esthari to the trade tongue of the Gardens.

His thumb-print - when he removed his glove - was all the authorization needed to key the elevator into action. He was wriggling his fingers back into the glove when the door opened onto the main floor; Chugi and Naia, already packed, were standing at the Directory waiting for him.

"Somebody likes to sleep late," Naia teased.

"And leave early," added Chugi. "You missed the best part of the night. The Headmaster's daughter got into waaaay too much champagne and -"

"I can miss Eiryn dancing topless, thank you," interrupted Shutat shortly. "For one, I've seen it before, and two - I always end up imagining her father threatening to expel me for looking." He looked around. "Guess we check out at the Commander's office?"

"Yep," said Naia, hefting her own bag into place. "So, o wise leader-who-leapfrogs-across-the-ranks, where are we going?"

"Esthar," he replied as they slipped around the stairs to the Commander's office. "I'll tell you at the same time I tell him."

"Any chance to go home?" asked Chugi as Shutat knocked and the door opened. "You weren't so keen on going home before now."

"I was a cadet," said Shutat. "And my mother's never approved of this line of work for me. She's very traditional. Now I'm a SeeD, and I don't _have_ to live in the Garden and under Alois' eye, I think it's all right to say hello."

"Mission first," said the Commander, rising. "I take it you've decided to go to Esthar?"

"Yes, sir," Shutat agreed, bowing. "To the archives at the Sorceress Memorial. It's as good a place as any to see if I can begin tracking down the White SeeD. They're after the same targets we are, after all - Sorceresses."

"It's been tried," said Omar with a shrug, holding out a clipboard. "But I'm leaving the handling of this up to you. Here's your official contract, pay scales, the lot. Sign over the touchpad, and add your thumbprint when you're done."

"If anybody wanted to throw SeeD into chaos," Naia noted, "All they'd have to do is cut off our thumbs. Pow! No more paychecks!"

The Commander was not amused. "We keep retinal scans on file as well," he said. "And DNA scans. To not get paid, there would have to be not enough left of you to identify."

"When did you get all that?" asked Chugi absently, looking over his own contract. "I don't remember signing up."

"Infirmary visits," said the Commander. "Now - once you leave here, you're on your own for all expenses. If you want to be reimbursed, keep receipts and transmit them whenever you can. Shutat's team leader as the highest ranking member, so any official expenses had better be in his name." He eyed the mageborn sternly. "I catch you buying gourmet or luxury items on the Garden account, you'd better believe the Disciplinary Committee will hear about it."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," replied Shutat stiffly. He loathed the DC; it was his private conviction that the Headmaster used them as a means to vent his frustration on students he didn't like. And the Almasy antipathy toward mageborn was legendary; it was, in fact, the primary reason his mother had been so vehemently against his coming to Balamb.

"Good lad," Omar nodded as Naia handed back her signed contract. "Now - we don't have a dock town in Esthar, but the Airstation is open to all ships; we'll get one of the pilots to fly you three that far, and from there on you're on your own." He paused. "I know Shutat's Esthari. Do either of you two know your way around?"

Chugi shrugged. "We learned the 'getting around' part in Geography," he said, "and I can at least make myself understood long enough to say _Sorry, I don't speak Esthari_. It's not a big part of a Balambese curriculum, seeing as they're technically, you know, the enemy."

"I can speak the language enough to get by," said Naia. "Geography? Buy me a map and I'm fine, but I can't remember the distances very well."

"And yet you passed the Exam," said Omar dryly. "Once you three are gone I'm having a talk with Alois. It's too late to do anything about you people now. Shutat, keep them from being arrested - and you two, do the same for him if and when you leave Esthar." He held out two palm plates, and two envelopes. "Naia, your junction assignment is Carbuncle. Orders regarding its use are in the envelope. Chugi, your junction assignment is Diablos, and orders are in the other envelope. These orders are sealed and confidential - no one is to know the contents unless the stated conditions are met; Griever will relay its own confidential orders to Shutat itself."

The three friends exchanged startled looks - Shutat not least, because he'd been given no orders regarding Griever at all. Which meant only one of them likely _had_ any orders, and the Commander was just making sure no undue suspicion fell on the one who did. Chugi and Naia set their hands to the plates and pocketed their envelopes as the junctions took hold, and Omar then put the plates into a drawer of his desk. "Get down to the Hangar; I'll make sure a pilot's waiting for you, " he said, and paused. "Oh - one more thing. You're under contract to _Garden_ for this mission. You're nobody's enemy. Don't start any wars, don't break any laws, and for Hyne's sake don't get yourselves caught. Garden will pay for your release if we get word of your capture, but the press won't be pretty. Get going."

* * *

The three friends were silent on their flight out of the Garden - not least because there wasn't much in the way of soundproofing on their jet. Chugi and Naia both seemed pretty well pleased with the destination; they'd tried to get Shutat to agree to shore leave in Esthar several times, but he had refused.

_You two have no idea,_ he thought, watching them play Triple Triad on a worktop. It wasn't something he'd wanted to make a big deal of, but Esthari mageborn had a dislike of SeeD that bordered on the irrational. It wasn't universal, of course - very few things with mageborn could be said to be _universal_ - but it was strongly prevalent, especially in the older families. His mother regarded SeeD as being nothing more than a group of nicely dressed hit men; if he'd taken shore leave in Esthar while a cadet she'd have taken every bruise received in training and turned it into an issue of major concern.

**Do the mageborn fight the SeeD?** inquired Griever.

_Not...officially. But people have been known to disappear if they wander too far into the wrong places, or too far away from home._

Griever didn't reply, but Shutat got an impression of overwhelming disapproval. **There was to be no fighting. That was the agreement.**

Shutat frowned. _As I was taught, the wording was 'there is to be no war'. It's not a war. I'd call it more of a feud, really. Or a feud in waiting, since we don't go looking for SeeDs..._

"Shu," said Chugi, shaking his shoulder. "Get up. We're here. At least we don't need you to do translations - they've got signs in every language, even Galbadian."

He got up and grabbed his bag, grateful for an excuse to tune out the guest in his mind. Esthar was home, even if he'd never been out of Tears' Point before joining SeeD. That meant once he set foot off the jet, he was home.

The Airstation was the single largest center of aviation in the world - though most of its business was now international travelers, as the inter-city rail had been completed centuries ago. Due to the peculiarities of Esthari government, Shutat went through a different inspection than his companions. He was no longer a citizen of Esthar, being SeeD, but he _was_ still a mageborn. Esthar's solution to the situation was a strict segregation - human visitors processed one way, mageborn another. There were far fewer mageborn than there were humans, both worldwide and present in the Airstation, so he ended up spending a while in an anteroom while Chugi and Naia got through the paperwork.

"Boy, you'd think we'd come to blow up the Presidential Palace," grumbled Chugi as he and Naia finally approached. "And I hope those forms made more sense in Esthari than they did in trade."

"Got your visas?" Shutat asked, holding up his own. "Things will get interesting from here on in."

"Interesting?" asked Naia. She kept looking around with a wide-eyed tourist's expression. Only in Esthar did one see electronics and technology rendered into art. "Interesting how?"

"Everything is separate here," he said. "I know you two are used to mageborn and humans talking to each other. That's not the way it is here. Let me do the talking." Rising, he shouldered his bag. "First, we need to get on a train to the Sorceress' Memorial. That's an hour long trip, but it's the Ways I'm worried about." He stopped, considering his friends' uniforms. "Actually, it'll go better if you two get out of those. I'll have to deal with my people, who may or may not know _me_, but they're guaranteed to make trouble if they know you're SeeD."

"Trouble?" asked Chugi. "What kind of trouble? Fights?"

"Depends," Shuat replied with a shrug. "Trains could suddenly be booked. Assistants may suddenly remember it's time for their break and lose their watches. Understanding of trade tongue or Balambese could hit new lows. It's better they just don't know. We're not here to change the world."

"Mageborn can't lie," Naia pointed out. "So if one says a train is booked, it is."

Shutat sighed. "Trains are routinely overbooked to account for no-shows," he said. "They often have seats available right up to the last minute - but on the computer, they're full up. Technically true, completely misleading. Trust me, Naia. Get into street clothes."

Chugi shrugged. "You're the boss," he said. "But anybody takes a swing at me and I'll teach 'em why you don't do that to a Dincht."

"Fair," agreed Shutat. "Now be quick. We've got to get on the Ways to get to the railway station from here."

He waited, picking up a tourist map and looking it over while his companions changed; SeeD uniforms were great for getting through customs lines, but generally a hindrance beyond them. SeeD was an international organization; cadets and SeeDs surrendered citizenship in whatever land they'd come from to join. Which didn't change their sympathies all that much, but it made a great deal of difference when traveling. As civilians, Naia might have gotten into Esthar - she was from Winhill, which remained an unaligned state. But Chugi was from Balamb, and that was part of the Galbadian empire. Here, that would have meant he was an enemy.

Not that he wouldn't startle people, Shutat reflected as his friend came back out. Chugi had short, flame red hair he kept in buzzed spikes, and gray eyes that looked all the more pale on the left side of his face, where his family's blackflame tattoo dominated his features. Short and wiry, these things alone would have made him stand out among the taller, fairer Esthari. But Chugi favored bold, vivid colors when not in uniform - in this case, black, royal blue, and blood red in stylized tiger stripes - and Shutat had to wonder whether maybe the uniform would have been less conspicuous after all. Chugi favored loose clothes - drawstring sweatpants and oversized t-shirts - that didn't interfere with his freedom of movement; like most of his family, Chugi was a martial artist. 

On the other hand, so was Naia - but when she came out she didn't look anywhere near as obvious. The fashions of Winhill were unique; Naia wore a tunic of a dusky pinkish gray over red lycra leggings, in shades that complemented her light brown hair and darker brown eyes. The style was Winhilli, but at least the colors were pale enough not to draw much attention. Shutat himself did not need to worry; he was too obviously mageborn, with the blue tint in his curls, for anyone but his own kind to care what he wore.

"Okay, we're street legal," said Chugi. "And man, it's starting to feel like shore leave already." Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he gestured with his free hand. "Which way?"

Shutat handed the map to Naia. "I've never actually been through Esthar City before," he admitted. "But it's supposed to be the template for the other cities, and I've ridden Ways before." He started walking down one of the halls. "There's supposed to be a Waystation just outside. We'll take that to the train depot and get tickets to Sorceress' Memorial."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Naia, opening and refolding the map to the relevant section as they walked. "What're we doing at the Memorial?"

"We're going to try and find out whether any of the GFs that have appeared in the past five hundred years had anything in common," said Shutat, "that might lead us to the white SeeD. The Sorceress' Memorial was _built_ to study Sorceresses. It's got the oldest and most complete archives in the world."

Chugi clucked - then chuckled as an Esthari couple saw him coming and quickly changed their course. "Gotta admit, it's fun scaring people bigger than me," he said. "Don't these people get out at all?"

Shutat shrugged as they stepped out of the Airstation and into the sunlight. Esthar City was a marvel of modern technology, with the best internal public transportation system in the world. The people, though, were in their way as strange to him as they were to his friends. Esthar City was a financial and business hub, its citizens mostly cubicle workers doing nine to five jobs or at least some general semblance of them. Tears' Point, where Shutat had grown up, was a much smaller and more alert community, mostly populated by intellectuals, artists, and scientists. He found the capital sterile and more than a little unappealing.

The Ways had been designed long, long ago, but their systems were regularly updated and upgraded so that they were always the best they could be. Chugi laughed at the idea of riding on a disc, while Naia thought it was extremely lazy to build a machine to carry you where your legs would do just as well. She maintained that opinion until Shutat directed her attention to the scale of the map she was looking at; it was nearly thirty miles to the depot from the Airstation. While they could hike that distance, it wasn't practical to do so. Esthar City was the capital of an empire that covered half the globe. It filled that role perfectly.

The Ways were half public transportation, half art in motion. The supports for the transparent tubes had been worked and reworked over the years into various themes, so that a true City native could tell where he or she was along the route simply by identifying the patterns, even late at night. The Way-tubes themselves often did not take direct routes, but sported curving scenic views - in some cases spiraling up the taller buildings to provide broad panoramic vistas to travelers before arcing gently earthward again. To compensate for this roundabout motion, there were four hours every day when the Way-chairs went at double and quadruple speed to accommodate hurried businessmen who'd already seen the views a thousand times and only wanted to get to work on time. Those hours were at the beginning and ending of the day, though, so Shutat and his friends were able to chose a disc sized for three and take a leisurely tour of Esthar-from-above. 

"Man, it's a government funded roller coaster ride," Chugi laughed, leaning forward in his seat to watch the City roll by under his feet. "And free! How the hell do they pay for it?"

Shutat shrugged. "I think it's mostly self maintaining," he offered. "It was originally built hundreds of years ago - the time of the Sorceress Adel's rule, I think. I'm not sure. I doubt that people quibbled about cost with a Sorceress breathing down their neck. After the borders opened, and during the expansion, taxes from tourists and new provinces paid the bills...and these days I think it brings in more than it costs to maintain. You don't have to pay to ride it, but because it's just here in Esthar City, people come from all over the world to do just that - ride it. And while they're here, they buy things and do things and everyone's happy."

"So how do you get around the other cities, then?" asked Naia, as they floated up the side of a building.

"I haven't been to most of the other cities," Shutat reminded them again. "But in Tears' Point, we used moving walkways for the most part. At least in the human neighborhoods. Mageborn don't generally bother - there's no way you'd ever get a mageborn community to agree on the speed."

"Point," agreed Chugi, and Naia nodded. Both of them well knew how strange such groups could be.

**The Ways were built by President Loire,** said Griever all at once. **Not Adel. Adel was insane; civic improvements were not her style.**

Shutat blinked, and suppressed an urge to flinch - he was _not_ used to there being thoughts in his head that weren't his. _Loire...Loire...you do realize I'm terrible at history, right?_

**President. Laguna. Loire,** said Griever, and Squall's flat tones were dominating over Rinoa's more melodic speech. **He rebuilt Esthar after the Sorceress Wars, roughly thirty years before the Pride.**

_Oh,_ thought Shutat. _Those Sorceress Wars. There was another, rather bigger one, about two hundred years later._ He looked around at the skyscrapers of the City as they passed. _I guess it wasn't here._

**No,** agreed Griever. **The Wars you are thinking of mostly took place in Trabia. **

_Hm._ Not sure what relevance any of the facts might have, but deciding they sounded interesting, he mentioned Griever's remarks to his companions.

Naia grinned. "You must've slept through history," she teased. "I remembered the Sorceress Wars. Of course, it's a little more personal. Winhill built the Wall around then."

"That was when we had to give in, too," Chugi said sadly. "Let Galbadia take its tax chunk out of Balamb." He perked up a little. "Not that they've ever gotten much good out of it!" He smacked his fist into his palm gleefully; martial arts were a Balambese craze, and it had been a severe shock to Galbadian tax collectors to find that eight year old children frequently knew enough in the way of such arts to knock a Galbadian soldier on his backside.

The saucer they rode began slowing, and dipped out of the main tube. As it settled to the ground the three friends rose and stepped off of it, so that it could return to its programmed rest/recharge zone. 

The central railway station of Esthar City was, for the most part, underground, with only the peripheral services found above the surface. Like many of Esthar's more modern buildings, it sported two entrances - one at ground level, and one on its low roof. Mageborn were often attracted to cities where their particular gifts would be welcome; in Esthar's case it was the wind-gifted, the Pandemona-born, who turned up most often - attracted to the Airstation as bees were to honey. But the wind-gifts were claustrophobic; the rooftop of the railway station was therefore designed only for brief stops - a Pandemona-gift dropping off a friend or relative, say. Shutat knew the phobia to be no joke; his mother was a wind-gift, and while she could and often _did_ give the impression of fearing nothing, he'd never once seen her set foot into any underground structure - natural or artificial. At times he'd fantasized about hiding in caves, knowing that his mother would never come after him then. Not that Esthar had many caves to explore. Still, the sight of the station did serve to remind him; he was not going to be too far from Tears' Point, and he needed properly warm SeeD uniforms. He should call his mother, and have her meet him at Sorceress' Memorial.

The only snag would be his companions; his mother was quite traditional, and the idea of her son socializing with 'human hit men' would likely send her into one of her tirades. Chugi and Naia didn't need to see that. He resolved to wait - they'd need to overnight at the Memorial anyway. It would be dark before they even arrived. He paid for their tickets and pocketed the receipts; if there was one advantage to his particular gift, it was that he rarely ran out of pocket space.

"This _is_ a regional station, right?" asked Naia, taking in the sheer size of the place. "Not a hub?"

"Not a hub," Shutat agreed. "But it has to handle the volume of people who work here, so..." he shrugged, then pointed. "Track 18. That's the one we want - Sorceress Memorial, express."

"We paid more for an express?" asked Chugi. "Screw getting reimbursed for that."

"Same price," grinned Shutat. "Just means no having to share with the commuters. _Or_ about half the tourists who had the same idea you did."

Naia laughed. "Friendly native guide!"

Shutat rolled his eyes. "Just you remember to return the favor if and when we're on the other side of the ocean."

"Done," agreed Chugi. "But we're gonna have to do something about your hair, Shu - oh, damn, you Esthari travel in _style_, dontcha?"

The train was stainless steel, kept clean so it gleamed even in the station lighting. Inside the train was a collection of small cubicles that seated four each, with a table for playing cards or reading and comfortably upholstered seats. Shutat slung his bag into the unoccupied seat and sat down. "It's just a train, Chugi."

"Sure, you say that _now_," said Chugi, following suit and sliding into an opposite seat. "Just you wait until you've got to ride Deling's idea of a train. _Cattle car_ comes right to mind."

Naia took the only seat left, next to Chugi, as her own bag went onto the pile. "How long is the trip?" she asked.

"A few hours," said Shutat. "The express is fast, but Esthar isn't a small empire and as far as I know never has been. For my part I'm going to take a nap. We should arrive sometime past sundown." He pulled the tickets out and showed them to his friends. "Here. The local time's on the wall - you can ask _that_ the usual 'are we there yet' questions."

His friends took their tickets, though they only understood the times; the tickets were printed in Esthari characters, which both Chugi and Naia had trouble reading. He put his own ticket in the holder over his seat, then leaned back on the group's luggage and settled in for a nap.

* * *

_He stands in a home - not an apartment, or condominium or townhouse, but a house. People are here, milling about, snacking on crackers and cheese and drinking from crystal bowls; it is a party, though a quiet one. He walks among them, but they pay him no heed. _

_He hears a cry; a woman in agony. The guests hear it too - for a moment, there is silence. The conversations quickly begin again, but the tone of them is nervous and forced. They are ignoring the woman's pain. He will not. Quickly he walks to a curved staircase, climbs it. The cry came from the second floor._

_She is in one of the bedrooms, holding a man's hand in a painful, white-knuckled grip, groaning the quiet groan of someone too far lost in pain and exhaustion for volume. Another cry suddenly echoes, on a rising note - and the doctor raises a baby. He clears its lungs, gives it to a waiting woman who cleans off blood and wraps it warmly._

_He walks over to the baby, curious, and finds it is one of two - the woman has birthed twins._

* * *

Shutat opened his eyes, blinking away the confusion of the dream. What an odd thing to dream about!

**What did you dream?** asked Griever. **Your mind was blank to us; if you dreamed, it must have been a vision.**

_Just a woman in labor,_ Shutat replied, bemused. _I don't think it's got anything to do with saving the world._

**Show us,** said Griever. **Hold the images in your mind, where we can see.**

Shutat did as bidden, trying to clearly picture as much of what he remembered of his dream as possible. It wasn't easy - he tended to forget dreams soon after waking, especially when startled.

**It is no place we know,** Griever noted after consideration. **But the mother is Esthari.**

_The white hair?_ asked Shutat, surprised. _Yes, I guess she probably is - at least partly. Is it important? I don't recognize any of the styles, but I haven't been everywhere in Esthar either._

**Write it down when you can,** said Griever. **There's no telling at this point if it's important or not, so it's best to record everything.**

_Will do,_ Shutat agreed, though he did wonder why. It wasn't as if babies were especially dangerous. Giving up on further sleep, he checked his watch. The train would arrive at Sorceress' Memorial in about fifteen minutes - he needed to wake his friends so they could book a room for the night.

* * *

After a blessedly dreamless sleep in a not-so-blessed hotel at their destination, the three set out for the Archives, using the moving sidewalks most of Esthar preferred. Sorceress' Memorial was considered one of the most mageborn-friendly cities in the empire of Esthar, for a very simple reason. The entire city was dedicated to the study of magic - particularly the magic of Sorceresses. Mageborn weren't particularly welcomed, but because so many of the people were informed about the nature of magic in general, Shutat's kind found it much easier to get along. The city's motto was somewhere between "If you've got it, use it," and "All things in moderation".

Except for learning. The Archives of the city were the most extensive in the world on the subject of Sorceresses - except for, possibly, the confidential files in the Gardens themselves. But Shutat already knew that nothing in SeeD's files would help him find the White SeeD. He had to hope that a clue was _here_ - he had no idea where to look next if there wasn't.

"Um, Shu?" asked Chugi, tugging on his sleeve. "Tell me they speak trade in there?"

"Dragonclaws," Shutat swore. "It never even occurred to me." He stopped, thinking. "The archives themselves I know are in Esthari," he said, and his companions groaned. "But - this place is open to scientists and most of them don't have the time to puzzle out written Esthari. There's got to be translations available. You two can search through those."

"Let's see what they have, first," said Naia. "Before we start panicking." She fished out her SeeD identification. "If they're open to scientists, they're open to SeeD."

"They'd better be," said Chugi, fishing his own identification out of a pocket. "Studying something like _Sorceresses_, I'd hate to be them if they _didn't_ let SeeD in."

They _were_ admitted, and with a refreshing minimum of fuss and red tape - once their identification was confirmed valid, the archivist on duty simply waved them in the direction of rows of terminals.

The archives were _huge_. Row after row of steel-reinforced stacks, housing everything from scrolls to specially treated hardcover books. All the records of every Sorceress ever researched were here, from bioscans to newspaper articles to legends.

Chugi took one look at the rows of stacks and immediately headed over to the terminals. "You can search the racks," he said. "I'm gonna stick with the keyboard. There's a better chance I'll find something."

"Same here," agreed Naia, choosing a terminal of her own. "There's no telling what's back there."

Shutat laughed quietly. "Cowards," he teased. "You got through enough essays in Garden."

"By the skin of my teeth," said Chugi, fingers already stabbing at keys. "And no way I'm doing it again so soon if I don't have to. We'll give you a heads-up if we find something we want to see hard copy of. Meet back here for lunch?"

"Sure," Shutat agreed, checking his watch. He pulled out a small cell phone and turned it on. "Use yours to get me - easier and quieter than shouting." He grinned. "But Hyne help you if the archivist hears it ring!"

* * *

Chugi and Naia had an entertaining morning searching through the electronic archives. Although the electronic archives were translated into every major language, they weren't always translated _well_, and the two of them had fun translating some of the more amusing passages from their own native tongues to the trade language employed by SeeD and comparing notes. 

The Archives were extensive, but not perfect; few Sorceresses allowed themselves to be studied - and in many cases there were huge gaps in the records as Sorceresses left media sight, or contradictory accounts. It was slow going, trying to track down even fairly recent news of Sorceresses that could be considered reliable. They barely looked up when a short and rather roundish woman with straight white hair entered the Archives. It _was_ Esthar, after all, and nobles had as much right to access the data as anyone else.

Then Naia looked up and said, "Did someone turn a fan on?"

Chugi, his train of thought derailed, blinked. "Fan?" he asked. Looking at the steel beams of the high roof, he said, "No fans in here."

"Then that woman was a mageborn," said Naia. "Because I felt a breeze just now."

"So?" asked Chugi, puzzled. "They can read, too."

"Wind gift with white hair, here, today," said Naia. "Not ringing any bells? Like maybe telephone bells?"

Chugi's jaw dropped. "He wouldn't. He _knows_ we wanted to meet his folks, that's cheating!"

"Come on," said Naia, getting to her feet. "I want to find out where that woman went."

"Coming," agreed Chugi, doing the same.

It wasn't hard to track them - the Archive was a quiet place, and even soft voices carried. And the woman wasn't speaking all that softly - her voice hissed and snapped through the harsh syllables of the Esthari tongue, clearly angry. The two friends exchanged bemused glances when they heard Shutat's more resigned-sounding replies.

"He's really catching it," whispered Naia. "I can't understand all of it, but I think she's chewing him out about _us_."

"Like hell I'm putting up with _that_," said Chugi at a more normal volume, and both voices silenced as he and Naia rounded the stack to confront them.

Shutat was sitting before a table stacked with several books and newspapers, and the short woman had her hands on her hips and was glaring at him with Pandemona purple-yellow-swirled eyes.

"Hello," he greeted his friends ruefully. "This is my mother, Miranda of Pandemona."

Chugi looked ready to tell the woman to lay off his friend, but Naia stepped forward and said, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Naia Moasi, of Winhill."

The mageborn didn't so much as smile, instead turning to look at her son as she snapped something in Esthari. Shutat's ghost-white cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"She says..." he sighed, and took a deep breath. "She says you are a discredit to your city, and if you had any sense you'd go back to Winhill and stay there."

Naia's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "And who is she to tell me what is and is not a credit to my city?" she asked mildly. "Shutat, we've got work to do. Why is she even _here_? You said you came from Tears' Point?"

"I called her," Shutat admitted as his mother started tapping her foot impatiently. "From the room, last night." He shrugged. "I need SeeD uniforms that are warm enough for me - I've always gotten them from a tailor my mother knows. Only...I wasn't planning on _staying_ a SeeD, you see, just passing my test and going home. She's mad at me because I haven't."

Miranda rapped out another string of quick words, tapping a fingernail on the table where Shutat had piled his findings.

Chugi turned to Naia and said, "I don't know about you, but if she doesn't calm down I'm all for calling security on her. Since we're not supposed to do that ourselves."

"Don't," Shutat said quickly. "And she _does_ understand you, so watch yourselves. She just doesn't want to talk to you." He winced as his mother snapped out something else, then turned to her and started speaking very quickly, almost pleading.

Chugi slanted a look at Naia. "Do I wanna know?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They're both talking way too fast for me," she admitted. "But I think she's mad about more than him not quitting SeeD after graduation. I think she wants to know what we're doing, what our mission is, and he won't tell her."

"Damn right he's not," said Chugi firmly. "That's confidential! I don't get to tell _my_ mom, either." He grinned. "Boy, bet she won't believe me when I tell her there's people with worse manners than the Dinchts, though. Mageborn on _our_ island are a lot more polite."

That won him a sudden sharp gust that made Shutat shiver. Miranda rapped out one more tirade, then stalked off. Shutat sighed, putting gloved hands to his cheeks as if to warm them. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "She's kind of a separatist. I was hoping to keep her away from you two."

"Ashamed of your human friends?" asked Naia mildly.

"No!" Shutat protested. "It's just...my mother's kind of volatile." At Chugi's bland _is that so_ expression, he made a face. "Okay, _really_ volatile. Dad was the only one that ever managed to calm her down, and he's been dead for years. Since then she's had nothing to do with humans of any kind." He indicated his pile of books. "Did you guys have any better luck?"

Chugi shrugged. "I found at least one documented pairing," he said. "The records have a gap, but the time frame is right - I think they became a GF."

"I found the one that ended the last Sorceress War," said Naia. "That one, we _know_ became a GF - it's all here, just as we were taught in Containment."

"That's two," said Shutat. "I think I _might_ have the pairs for all six in the last five hundred years since Garden's rising." He grinned and tapped the side of his head. "Or rather, all _seven_ - Griever's one of the more recent ones, too. But I already know Griever isn't going to lead us anywhere. It's as clueless about the White SeeD as we are."

Naia had to stifle a laugh as Shutat suddenly winced. "Griever doesn't like being called clueless?" she asked sweetly.

"You could say that," he replied, pained. "But enough about me, all right? Go get what you dug up, and we'll cross check against these records."

Chugi and Naia quickly jogged back to their terminals and printed out their results. Shutat made room at his table for them, and said, "Okay. Naia, you first."

"Why?" she asked. "We know that Tiamat has nothing to do with the White SeeD. Ria and Kain were SeeDs; Ria took the power from the Sorceress Callista at the end of the last Sorceress war, and chose Kain for her Knight - just the way we're taught to do. The two worked within the Garden as SeeD Sorceress and Knight for another fifty years before Joining into Tiamat - proving the theory of GF creation."

Shutat was flipping through pages, nodding. "Okay - got it. My own records stopped with Callista, and for the life of me I couldn't bring her successor to mind." He set one of the books aside. "Okay. That's one, and one we know not to bother with. Five more chances. Chugi?"

The redhead grinned and plunked a decently sized printout in front of his friend. "Just about beginning to end - Sorceress Chang and the Knight Marrok, right here in Esthar a hundred years ago. Serious headlines."

"Chang...Marrok..." muttered Shutat, picking up another book. "Nope, no luck. When was it again?"

"About a century ago," said Chugi, trying to read over Shutat's shoulder. Unfortunately the pages were all neat, vertical rows of Esthari characters.

"Ah, that helps," nodded Shutat, and picked up another book. "Okay - I'd say they became the GF called Fenrir. It fits the timeline - does it fit what you have?"

"Yep," Chugi nodded. "Marrok of Pandemona."

"Of Pandemona?" Shutat blinked. "He was mageborn?"

"Oh, yeah," Chugi agreed. "That's why the headlines. If he'd had any deadlier a gift I think Esthar would've had a kill on sight order on them. As it is, I think they Joined early out of danger of being shot. Fenrir's a hider."

"And when the White SeeD split from the Black, it was over a Sorceress with a mageborn Knight," Shutat mused. "That's...strange."

Naia was checking through her printouts. "Hey...I didn't manage to match these up with GFs, but the pairings I have are Sorceresses with mageborn, too. I'd say the only GF that _isn't_ made up that way is Tiamat - and maybe Griever."

"Griever's Knight isn't mageborn," Shutat confirmed quickly, sensing the ire from his junction. "So...out of seven GFs in the past five hundred years, five of them had mageborn Knights?"

"Beyond weird," agreed Chugi. "I mean, it's not like there's a _lot_ of you guys - where _do_ mageborn live around here, anyway? I haven't seen more than a handful since we left Garden."

"Apart," said Shutat absently, studying the printouts. "In Esthar we build our own neighborhoods, pretty much keep to ourselves. A lot of the communities are walled and gated to keep the punks out. We could handle them, but it's easier on everyone if they just can't get to us." He tapped one of the books. "Griever, Tiamat, Fenrir, Phantom, Unicorn, Seraphim, and Golem. Those are the new seven. Think it's important we match the GFs with their pairings? Because I think we've got the clue we came for."

"Do we?" asked Naia, surprised. "We probably could have found all of this in Garden's databanks if we'd looked hard enough."

Shutat grinned. "Not that one point though," he said. "Not that they were mageborn. I'm _sure_ I would have remembered being taught about _that_. Because now I know where we need to go next."

"Where?" she blinked, then smacked herself on the forehead. "Of course! Winhill!"

"Winhill?" asked Chugi. "What's there?"

"See this?" Shutat asked, waving at the Archives all around them. "In Winhill, there's something a lot like this - only just for my kind. The Catacombs have records of every mageborn who's ever lived. All we need are their names and about when they lived, and we can get a lot more detail there than we would here."

"But if it's that easy," asked Chugi, "Why didn't somebody else do it before now?"

Shutat rolled his eyes. "Because of people like my mother," he said. "There's a lot of things we don't talk about with humans, Chugi. The Catacombs is just for us, the records there just for us. Any SeeD that so much as tried to poke a toe in would go missing."

"Um," said Chugi, raising a finger. "That'd mean Naia and me, too. I'm not big on the idea of disappearing."

"You won't," reassured Shutat. "Because you're my friends, and you're going with _me_. At last the Commander's reasoning is starting to make sense. He really _does_ need me." He grinned. "Bet my mother will never believe it."

"Bet she calls you traitor," Chugi warned. "If it's like you say, mageborn only..."

Shutat stilled, suddenly very serious. "Chugi...let me worry about it. You and Naia are my friends, and I don't think there's any harm in showing you...I guess you'd call it 'my world' but I don't recall signing up for it. The Commander gave me a mission, and I think it's worth doing. I think it's worth more than traditions that might be doing my people more harm than good at this point. You're _not_ the remorseless hit men my mother thinks you are..." he sighed. "At least, not yet. I guess we've got time for that. But here and now is what I've got to work with - and here and now, you two need to know and I need to trust you. So - leave the whole secrets thing to me, and keep what you learn to yourself, and we're fine. The Commander just wants the White and Black reunited. We don't have to tell him every blessed secret of the mageborn, right?"

"Nice to know you're sure we're going to _become_ remorseless hit men," noted Naia archly. "I should tell the Commander to point me at those helpless babies, I need practice!"

"I'm sorry," sighed Shutat. "It's hard to shake off everything you've been taught in one go - and SeeD is nothing like I was led to believe."

"Should we be going there?" asked Chugi, picking up the printouts. "I know what you _mean_, anyway, and I've got a good third of my family in SeeD. I had no idea how much they weren't telling me about it. And probably more we're too green to know yet."

"Yes," Shutat agreed, relieved. "Exactly. Just...I keep having to choose which is more important, my people or SeeD, and I keep getting shoved right down the center - I _have_ to be both or we won't get anywhere. You two are going to get some of that, too - I have to ask you not to talk to the Commander about the things you see. He just wants to know that we're making progress. He doesn't need to know how."

Naia cocked her head at him. "You aren't the only one keeping secrets," she admitted. "But mine can wait, for now. I'll keep your secrets if you keep mine."

"I'm starting to feel majorly left out here," said Chugi, blinking. "I don't think I've got _any_ secrets."

"Good one of us can get away with it, then," grinned Shutat. "Come on. Let's get all the names we can, and then - off to the trains again. We can sleep on the way."


	6. Trains and Chocobos

Esthar had two main transportation options; the airships, and the trains. Trains were generally more reliable in terms of schedules, but the airships were more exciting and often faster. Either could encounter monsters mid-route, but passengers often didn't notice this when riding by rail. This was because guards were stationed on every car to make sure the way was clear; this also had a deterring effect on would-be train robbers. In an airship, a combination of guns and fancy flying got passengers to their destination in one piece, though it was not a recommended mode of travel for the delicate of stomach. Shutat generally preferred the train; he knew too many wind-gifts to feel comfortable trusting his life to the temper of one. So the three friends rode by train to East Timber - a city none of them had ever seen.

"Do they _know_ what's been done with their name?" Naia asked as she looked around at what appeared to be a town more heavily fortified than Winhill. Although wooden-beam construction was prevalent on older buildings, there weren't many left - and stone and steel were more common on the newer. Mostly what one could see, perched on any building of reasonable size, were artillery guns. "I thought Fisherman's Horizon was the checkpoint!"

Shutat shook his head. "FH belongs to Esthar the same way Balamb belongs to Galbadia," he began, and Chugi laughed - a short, sharp bark.

"Then it doesn't belong to Esthar at all," he said. "Galbadia doesn't put the big guns and long range missiles on Balamb because it'd have a war on its hands if it tried, Shu. We belong to Galbadia because in the end that's all they wanted to be able to do - point at a map and tell you Esthari "hey, we own that". If they actually tried to _act_ like they own us we'd kick their butts so hard you could come in and finish them off without breaking a sweat."

Shutat paused. "I thought they had a little more control than _that_," he protested, then waved his hand in negation. "Never mind. The point is, FH is less a conquest and more a colony. They're engineers that left Esthar during one of the Sorceress wars, and when the Galbadian empire started re-assembling again, they sort of reached an agreement with us. FH is part of Esthar, and works for Esthar - our planes and ships can be repaired and refueled there, and they'll give us their new designs first - but they're not involved in the wars of empire. They'll help us with materiel, but not with manpower. So there's no checkpoint there - trains go straight across, Timber to East Timber and back again, with only emergency stops at FH when necessary."

Naia sighed, disappointed. "I was looking forward to seeing the Fishermen," she said. "They're supposed to be great people. Really brilliant - and you've got to admire the way they've managed to never fight a war."

Chugi snorted. "Oh, yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "Gotta admire how they get other people to dirty their hands keeping 'em safe. At least you Winhilli do your own fighting." He paused. "When shoved, anyway."

"We defend what's ours," said Naia serenely. "Against the whole world, if we have to."

Shutat stumbled as a blinding headache hit him like a hammerstrike to the brain. _War. War and fire. A great battle is waged on the walls of a fortified city - monsters and men wearing jump-packs fighting against the defenders. Whirlwinds and earthquakes and bursts of flame and water as the defenders fight; there are mageborn in the battle. A woman in a black form fitting gown spreads crow-black wings and flies to the top of the wall; a man - one of many on the wall - is her target. He wears a SeeD's uniform, a gold star pinned to his collar._ And then pain in his knee as he hit the ground. He blinked a few times, shaken and breathing hard.

**Vision,** said Griever. **Quickly - what did you see?**

The Guardian Force's voice caused a dull, throbbing reaction, and Shutat automatically put his hand to his face. Chugi and Naia hovered close by, concerned.

"Are you okay?" asked Naia. "What's wrong?"

"Need some help?" added Chugi, worried. "There any pills that work on you guys? I could get 'em..."

"A vision," gasped Shutat, trying to hide his sudden fear. A waking vision - he hadn't had one of those since...he focused on holding the images in his mind for Griever to see, as he described them for his friends. "A walled city - war. Mageborn were fighting, I could see the jets of fire and water, feel the wind and earthquakes. A sorceress led the attack, and the Commander was on the walls."

"Walls?" asked Naia alertly. "Winhill is the only walled city."

**The city is Winhill,** Griever confirmed at the same time.

"Omar?" asked Chugi, getting right to the point. "Was it Commander Kinneas?"

"No," Shutat denied, shaking his head as he wobbled to his feet. The headache was making him nauseated, and he swallowed against it. "No, not Omar. Someone I don't know. But he wore a black SeeD's uniform and had a gold star on his collar. Who else would it be but the Commander of the time? It couldn't be the Headmaster, not against a Sorceress."

"A Sorceress wants to take over my city?" asked Naia, indignant. "I hope you saw us kicking her butt."

Shutat looked around him, at the steel and concrete of East Timber, the clean military efficiency. It was nothing like his vision - comfortingly real. "It ended too soon," he said quietly. "I'm sorry." _But I had a waking vision. Wide awake. I have to find the White SeeD soon._ "Which way was it to the check station? Naia, you have the map..."

He felt disoriented. The headache probably had a lot to do with that, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being underwater - one of the most terrifying states for a fire gift to be in. Chugi and Naia seemed to decide letting him be was the best course, without saying a word. At least, without saying a word he could hear; the ocean seemed loud in his ears. _Maybe I should've flown after all,_ he speculated.

**You cannot hear the sea from here,** said Griever quietly. **Focus on what is in front of you.**

_Easy for you to say_, Shutat replied shakily. Faint though Griever's words were, he still felt as though someone had been beating on his head with hammers. A hand gripped his arm, and he turned to see Chugi.

"We _said_, we need you to get the tickets," he said as if repeating for the nth time. "We don't have a good enough grip on Esthari. Shu, don't even try telling me you're okay. What's the problem?"

No. No, he was _not_ going to have Chugi and Naia looking at him like that. If his surroundings were going to play tricks, he would focus on his friends instead. "It's just a headache," he said, wishing he were capable of lying, but that was one power humans alone seemed to have. "There's nothing to be done about it."

Chugi's stern glare said he wasn't buying a word of it, truth or not, but he let it go. "Just...get the tickets, man," he said, "and then we're gonna knock your butt out on the train to Timber."

"In your dreams," Shutat managed to retort, with at least some semblance of his usual demeanor, and ordered tickets to Timber. "Here, you two get in that line over there. We need to prove we're not smuggling cactuars or something equally ridiculous."

"Why not use our SeeD privileges?" grumbled Naia, as they started dragging bags.

"Because we're _not_ carrying anything illegal," sighed Shutat. "Five foot swords are pretty obvious, so I'm not carrying any concealed weapons. And you two are martial artists, no weapons at all, and if we don't _need_ to go waving Garden passes all over the planet I'd just as soon we didn't, okay?"

"_Jawohl_," snapped Chugi, annoyed. "Hyne. Give a guy command and it goes _right_ to his head. Remind me to ask about headache cures for mageborn when we get there, Shu."

"And everybody knows I _adore_ standing in queues," Shutat snapped back, in no mood for this. "Just do it, all right? It's not like _you_ have to carry around enough heavy clothing for an arctic expedition, now is it?"

"And if you boys don't stop arguing, I'm going to have to beat you _both_ black and blue and lock you away from the cookie jar," came Naia's not-entirely-idle threat from farther up the line. "Orders are orders, Chugi, and it's not like a line is the end of the world."

"Hmph," grunted Chugi, though he was careful to be very polite to the customs agent assigned to look through his bag.

Shutat was relieved that Naia, at least, understood that SeeD passes shouldn't be waved around indiscriminately. Any time officials saw one, they automatically assumed that the SeeD in front of them had something to do with _them_, their little secrets and peccadilloes, and answers and help thereafter became one huge tangle of favor for favor, lies and misdirections. If the hassle could be avoided by passing through customs as any other travelers did, then Shutat preferred to do so. Soon enough they were on the bullet train to Timber, that would cross the ocean-spanning Horizon Bridge.

It might be a marvel of engineering, but as far as the three friends were concerned it was one of the most boring trips to make in the world. Long ago, the Bridge had been covered with a tough transparent plastic and its supports reinforced, so that the vagaries of the sea would not wash track or train away. But the plastic was much-scratched by sea salt and monster claw, and there was nothing on the other side but ocean; although the train could cover the distance in a day, it was never fast enough for the people who rode inside.

The SeeDs had prepared for this as for anything else; knowing they could sleep more cheaply on the train, they'd spent all of the previous night at the Archives, ferreting out any remotely useful piece of information. Putting the pieces together could wait until they were sure they had _enough_ pieces, and on the train they could sleep.

Shutat hadn't expected to, in truth. Mageborn typically required at most _half_ the sleep of humans - Chugi had grown very used to Shutat spending a lot of time studying or training when he should have been sleeping. But this was not now the case; since the Exam, Shutat had been sleeping a lot more. Almost as much as his friends, and it made him feel odd. Or did he have the cause and effect reversed?

**Your power is fueled by your body,** Griever said, and Shutat winced. **You have not been sleeping when you close your eyes.**

That was a disturbing notion, even through the vague feeling of too much sleep and too little rest, and the tenderized feeling in his head from the Guardian Force's presence. _Visions..._ he thought distantly. _I'd always been taught that we burn ourselves to ash. Maybe I'll sleep myself to death instead...that would be nice._

Griever might have said something; Shutat had the unclear impression of some leonine sound, but he was already drifting off. Or waking up...

_He stands on clouds, dark and purple-gray and flashing with lightning in their foggy shadows. Above him is endless starry night, or something near to it; bright points of light in impenetrable darkness. He steps, and finds without surprise that he can walk on the cloud tops; the clouds are soft and springy, like rich earth, and tendrils of mist curl around his booted toes. He walks aimlessly, seeing no one else, with his head tilted back to watch the brilliant stars. He has never seen stars so beautiful, so bright; light pollution long ago rendered most stars invisible from the ground._

_"Every star is a single life," says a voice behind him, and he turns._

_They appear to him as woman and man, with the dark black skin of the jungles of Timber. They wear, both of them, silver and midnight blue and steel blue, and their eyes are the eyes of the night above. Stars even shine in their black depths. And even though their eyes and his are not the same, something else inside tells him who they are._

_"Bahamut," he breathes, and they smile. It is not a welcoming smile; spiders might smile that way._

_The Sorceress of Bahamut raises a hand to the sky, and lines of light appear, connecting the stars. The lines create an impression of flow, of nexus, of progression, "Behold, child, all of Time there shall ever be."_

_He looks - cannot look away, in truth, the sight is breathtaking - and on instinct reaches out as if the stars might come to his hand. A feeling of rushing movement, and suddenly he is close enough to touch the Timestream. But he is not Bahamut; he cannot control what he sees. He is not the gravity that determines the course of the river's flow, but only a leaf riding headlong on the current. And what a current; faces grow from infancy and fall into age, rising and falling into the white 'water' of the Stream, Sorceresses rising like jutting boulders in the whitewater, Guardian Forces changing the flow and he is helpless, helpless as he is carried along, seeing far too much to ever comprehend or remember._

_When a hand reaches out to pull him free of the Stream he takes it, and only after he is free does he see that his savior is Bahamut. Wide eyed, disoriented, he is still aware enough to be frightened; Bahamut has never been a merciful creature. "Why?" he asks, and is wary of hearing the answer._

_"You are given the power to see the flow of Time," says Bahamut's Knight. "But not the power to control it. You see, and will see, until you drown in the waters of history. Humans are not meant to see so much."_

_Quite true; it is what has always killed the mageborn of his Gift. "Why did you save me?"_

_The Knight does all the speaking, the Sorceress, all the actions. As he speaks, her hand waves at the sky; what was a great profusion of lines narrows down to few - an outline of a stream, rather than the stream itself. The actors who shape the stream's course and flow. "We can see, and to some extent control," the Knight says. "But you exist within Time, as we do not. You can act, within the flow, to change the flow much more quickly and completely than we are currently able. If you know where the pressure points are. If you know what to do when you reach them. We offer you alliance."_

_He is rocked back on his heels; he can feel the awesome age and power of this Force - it is everywhere, all around him. The Dragon has no need of him._

_"We do," repeats the Knight. "And you have need of us. Without our aid, without us to filter your visions, you will die mad as all your kindred have before you. We offer alliance; a service for a service."_

_Now Shutat is more than wary; he is concerned. "If you can do this, save me...why haven't you ever done it before? Why have the Bahamut gifts died, if you could save them?"_

_"We offer alliance," repeats the Knight. "Not servitude. We do not exist to answer your questions. Your power is of us, its source is of our body. We are your only hope of ever controlling it."_

_Shutat fingers the silver pendant around his neck - a representation of Bahamut, wings and talons outspread as if to grab and hold. The tiny talons feel needle sharp, and he is afraid. _

_Suddenly, the vision fades - night and cloud and Force together. _

He opened his eyes to find Chugi shaking his shoulder. "Come on, Shu, we're here. This is Timber - last stop for the Horizon train."

As if the nap had only fended it off, not treated it, Shutat's headache returned tenfold. He winced, grimacing at the pain, and fumbled for his bag. Another hand, more capable, picked it up first.

"I've never, ever, seen a sick mageborn," said Naia quietly, slinging his bag over her shoulder. "But you've been sleeping, and you're definitely not well." She held out her free hand and he took it, letting her pull him to his feet. "I think you need to tell us what's going on."

"Not here," pleaded Shutat quietly, aware of the curious eyes on the train. With his ghost-white skin, heavy clothing, and the blue tint to his hair, he was obviously mageborn. He didn't think anyone needed to know more than that, and would really have preferred them not to know even that much. 

Chugi steered him off the train by the elbow, and into the humid air of Timber. "Yeah? Well, we need a drink to clear our heads of that godawfulboring trip anyway," he said matter of factly. "I'll say this for the Timberi - they make almost as good a set of drinks as I could get on the beaches at home."

**Bahamut spoke to you,** said Griever quietly. **We know the way it feels. Clever, to speak through your power; we could have stopped it, or at least listened in, otherwise. What did it offer?**

_Don't talk_, begged Shutat in his thoughts. _I'm in enough pain...your voice...voices...hurt..._

"Shu?" asked Naia, and then her features set. "That's it. A drink, and sitting down, or you get relieved of command for medical reasons. I've got the certification and you know it."

"Drinks here!" Chugi called from a short distance away. He already had a fanciful plastic tourist cup filled with something that looked violently green, and was picking up another drink that was just as brilliantly yellow. He nodded toward a table. "Sit there, this one's for you, Naia," and he handed her the yellow one. "They call it a Chocobo Twirl, not a clue what's in it." The green drink he plunked down in front of Shutat. "And _that_'s called a Cactuar Thumb. I figured if it makes you any greener you'll get sick, and maybe feel better after."

"No," said Shutat, pushing it away. "You have it." Hyne, his head was killing him. "I don't think I need to add being drunk to my problems."

That stopped both of his friends. Mageborn were famous for being immune to _any_ chemical alteration, desired or not. Alcohol had no more effect on them than aspirin. "...Shu?" asked Naia. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm a Bahamut gift," said Shutat slowly - and quietly, for Timber had many mageborn and they'd probably have an interest in a stranger. Griever and his friends were the only ones who needed the explanation.

"Yeah..." agreed Chugi, frowning. "That just means fire gift, though, doesn't it? That's all you've ever done. Well, that and the visions, but that's just the past few days..." He trailed off. "Visions."

"Yes," sighed Shutat. "Bahamut is the rarest gift...because it kills those born with it. As the gift matures...we see more, and more. Future and past and no way to tell which is which, until we can't tell when _now_ is anymore. In the end we die from the gift going out of control. We burn ourselves alive."

"There's no way," said Naia. "There's no _way_ you could be burning yourself up for all this time and nobody knows about it. Mageborn don't..." she stopped. _Mageborn don't lie._ But they didn't get sick, either, or drunk. "You _are_ mageborn, aren't you?"

That won a small, tired snort. "Yes. I'm just a crippled one. That's how I've lived so long. Before me, the longest-surviving Bahamut gift was thirteen years old. But me...up until recently I had no visions, I could only call my fire to edges, couldn't hold a sense shift long..." he glanced at his friends, "and I could get a buzz from spiked drinks." He leaned his elbows on the cheap tourist table, resting his face in his hands. "Only it's not like that now. I'm starting to see things again - I told you - and I'm not sleeping because of it, and my head's killing me."

Chugi stared into the green depths of his drink. "So...you're going crazy?" he asked slowly.

"I hope not," wished Shutat. He raised his gaze, looking around. East Timber had been half wood, half steel; Timber itself was entirely of wood, from its buildings to its benches. Although it had grown enormously in recent decades, it was easily the most _sprawling_ city on the planet. "Timber is...ab Chwaer, isn't it?" he mused to himself. "They're practical folk..." he pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his bag. "Come on. I'll show you what to look for...in case you ever need it. Every group of mageborn has at least one."

"Headache gone?" asked Naia hopefully.

"No, but if I let it stop me I might as well give up right now," Shutat replied. "I'll fall over when I fall over, and rest then, and worry about it then. Come on."

Eyes tight with pain, the echo of shift in the dark irises, Shutat led them down the curving cobblestone streets of Timber as if he'd memorized a map of the place. But then, as both his companions knew, the indications he followed might not be easily seen. He stopped before a low, square building that was, oddly enough, not made of wood. Although obviously kept in good repair, the candle shop was built entirely of stone. He nodded at it. "Do you see that design?"

"Square stone building," Chugi agreed. "There's a meat shop in Balamb..." he trailed off.

"And a bakery in Winhill..." said Naia, equally quiet.

"There's one in any mageborn grouping," said Shutat. "At least one. In bigger cities there'll be two or more, just to be sure. They'll always be run by mageborn, and if we live apart they'll be in the mageborn part of town." Mother. His mother had told him...and he was _not_ going to think about it right now, not in depth, not yet. Just the essentials right now. Just what the other two needed to know.

The other two nodded, looking at the candle shop. Neither needed to go inside to check how accurate this claim might be. The building was, in size and construction, nearly identical to the ones they knew. It was only the business that was different.

"If I...." Shutat stopped, sighed. "_When_ I go insane...if we're in a town, you have to get me to the building that looks like this. You won't have a lot of time and I'll probably fight you - do whatever you have to do, but please don't let the other humans know what's going on. Shove me in there...give the people inside time to get out. The business will burn but the building won't. And nobody will die that way. The mageborn will rebuild the business."

He leaned on a lamp post, closing his eyes. There were headaches, and there was looking at your own grave. Bahamut's offer floated to the surface of his mind - to be spared, to _live_ - but what would Bahamut ask, in exchange? _I'm seventeen. I should be starting my life, not planning my funeral._ But since when had Life changed its plans because they weren't fair? He had the time he had. That was all anyone had. And he was _not_ going to think about it yet.

Chugi, as always, was the most practical. "Well, great. I wasn't looking for a moody drunk, Shu."

"You were the ones who wanted to drink," Shutat pointed out. 

"So...how much time?" asked Naia. "Is there anything we can do while we're here, or should we get going?"

Shutat turned away from the candleshop, and its grim construction. The sweltering jungle heat of Timber was welcome, very welcome. He almost felt comfortable enough to take off his trenchcoat, which he hadn't been tempted to do outdoors in years. It was certainly helping the headache. So was his friends' attitudes; in a sense it was a relief to get the worry off his chest - they'd know what to do, now, and they were SeeD. More, they understood mageborn and how important a secret it was he'd entrusted them with. For five hundred years, the nature of the Bahamut gift had been kept from humans. There was good reason for that; in most cities, mageborn were barely tolerated - if that. In Esthar they lived in separate neighborhoods, generally separate suburbs. In Deling they lived here and there, scattered like an invisible web over the cityscape, treated and tolerated as if they were vermin. Dollet assumed a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy that worked fine if you weren't one of those mageborn who had an immediately recognizable gift; Shutat actually found Deling more welcoming because at least there they didn't pretend to tolerate him.

But Chugi came from Balamb, where the ab Nodwydd had long since gone past a state where 'clan' might apply, and had reached 'horde'. There wasn't a human on Balamb Island who couldn't claim kinship with at least one mageborn, either by blood or marriage or both. Even the deadliest gifts had places they could go and people they could rely on; Chugi was probably not kidding about his people's capability to tell the huge Galbadian empire where it could shove its swagger stick. And Naia came from Winhill, and there it was even more tightly knit than Balamb; Winhill was _run_ by mageborn, every family there numbering several mageborn members. It was a sort of concentrated version of Balamb, and had adopted a fiercely defensive stance that had successfully held off both empires to date. Winhill had no railroads and no roads to reach it, and only one small airport. Naia was probably more surprised that there was something about mageborn she didn't know, than the reality of her friend's gift.

"Winhill's still the destination," he said. "If there's any record of contact, it'll be there. Probably in the Catacombs under the Memorial."

Naia smiled. "You're taking us, right?" she asked pointedly. "I've always wanted to see them - I've heard the Brothers-gifted and the Diablos-gifted have really done something special down there. Like a wonder of the world or something. But they don't let humans go down there."

Shutat blinked at her. "Why should they be anything special?" he asked. "They're _catacombs_, Naia. Burial vaults. There's really no need to do those in a fancy way."

She looked, for all the world, like she was enjoying some old ghost story in her mind. "They say the first ones are buried down there," she confided. "The very first mageborn. Come _on_, Shu - they're your ancestors! Aren't you at all curious?"

Chugi looked like he was watching a ping pong match, watching from face to face as Shutat gave the question honest consideration, relieved that his friends were distracted. "I know what happened to my forefather," he said slowly. "But...now that you mention it, I don't know what happened to the others." He shrugged. "You two probably know what happened to Nodwydd, Cariad, and Chwaer though. Should I be curious?"

Chugi grinned. "Nothing special here. The Cactus House still stands, anyway - I think the only time they close the doors is when a hurricane's coming in, and even then they get the local Pandemona-gifts to blow it away from the House."

"Nothing about Nodwydd, then, that I need to know to find the SeeD?"

The question made Chugi shrug. "Nodwydd's son Liam took up with one of Kiel's daughters." He paused. "Okay, probably more than one of Kiel's daughters."

Shutat's expression was bland. "That would be a 'no', then, I take it. The Dinchts wear the black, not the white. Naia?"

She, too, shrugged. "I'd have said no, Shutat, except that I thought I knew mageborn and I didn't know your gift does...what it does. I know you're off base thinking the ab Chwaer are still there, though. They left Winhill and came here, to Timber. Just about all of them."

That made Shutat blink. "I knew the Line here was ab Chwaer, but...why?"

"Not over an argument, if that's what you're thinking," said Naia. "The father of the line, I think, came from Timber. Some of his children decided some of his family should live here. So they came. I do know this is the only place you can get any kind of transport to Winhill from." She pointed at Shutat. "_You_ can do it, probably. I can't." She indicated her uniform. "Technically, I'm no longer a citizen, because I joined SeeD."

Shutat was tempted to ask her why on earth she would leave her family and her city - by all accounts a good place to live - to join SeeD. But there were more important considerations. "I can?" he asked. "Where? How?"

She pointed down the row, at the painted image of a yellow chocobo on a swinging board. "The chocobo stables," she said. "The ab Chwaer are the chocobo breeders - and Winhill didn't want to give them up. So there was a deal; as long as the line was open, the ab Cariad would supply the greens and the ab Chwaer the chocobos. It's only open to citizens of Winhill or the mageborn that know to ask for it, but it's absolutely safe." She grinned. "Just don't insult their chocobos!"

Chocobos - _Winhill_ chocobos. Mageborn-run chocobo carriages. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said softly, even managing a smile. The Winhilli had managed to resurrect the lines of colored chocobos - it was the closest thing the city-state had to a cultural sport. Races were segregated by color, and a skilled chocobo jockey could live in luxury if he chose. Televised chocobo races were the city's main export. Although chocobos did not die of age, and chocobos _had_ been bought by non-Winhilli, no one had yet managed to successfully breed colored chocobos outside of Winhill. There were secrets that were jealously kept by the natives on the subject, and given the capabilities of the colored birds, more than one war had taken place trying to uncover them.

To Shutat it meant a safe, and fast, trip to Winhill. That was very much what he needed; there was no telling when another vision might strike. If he could, he would try to wrangle a gold chocobo; they were the strongest and fastest of all. 

**They do not come cheaply,** noted Griever, and Shutat clutched his head. 

_Don't shout!_ he pleaded. _Your voices hurt. _He wobbled slightly, and both his friends immediately reached to grab his elbows. _It makes me dizzy_.

**We will try to speak more quietly,** said Griever. **But we were not shouting. We've spoken to you at that volume before without difficulty.**

"Shu?" asked Chugi. "It's not another vision is it? Your eyes didn't change...at least your eyelids weren't glowing..."

"No," Shutat replied, and looked at his friends patiently until they let his arms go. "Griever's voice is just giving me a headache."

"All the more reason for us to get ourselves a carriage," pushed Naia. "It's a long hike, and you need to talk to somebody about this, Shutat. If you need rest, you can rest on the carriage."

That sounded like a good idea, so Shutat nodded - carefully. "That place, you said?" he asked, pointing to the building. When Naia nodded, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and led the way. Leadership aside, he was feeling in need of rest - and that bothered him more than a little, given that he'd slept on the train and not really exerted himself. Maybe he needed to eat; that was possible, given all his visions. The gift - any gift - was fueled by the body, whether it was consciously called or not. There was no telling what the drain caused by the visions was; as far as he knew, no Bahamut gift had lived long enough to really study the matter.

"You gonna be okay?" asked Chugi. "I mean - anything we can do? I've never seen you so floored, not even after a bad day at practice."

"I think...I'm probably hungry," said Shutat slowly, and threw out his hand as Chugi grinned and ran off. "Oh...damn." He sighed. "I must look really bad for him to do _that_."

"You have _no_ idea," Naia dryly informed him. "Besides, he didn't mean to leave you out with the drinks, so this makes up for it. You can wait till he gets back, right?"

Shutat blinked. "I...guess so?" he ventured. There was no such thing as a fat mageborn, really - the powers, even sense-shifts, were very energy intensive. If anything, mageborn were widely known as hearty if bland eaters; most mageborn couldn't tolerate spices in amounts that humans could taste. He didn't have to wait long, at least, before Chugi came running back, his arms loaded with food. The smell of it all set his mouth watering, and Shutat knew some of his unease _was_ hunger by that - for the food that Chugi brought back was tourist fare. Hot dogs, burgers, fries, pretzels, corn dogs, "Chugi, it would've been easier to buy the cart - and where did you get money to pay for all this?"

"Plastic, man, plastic!" he beamed as he approached. "There's a vendy type machine in the deli, I just started pushin' buttons!" He handed over a wrapped hot sandwich. "Here, start in. This stuff's making me hungry too."

"Hey," groused Naia, liberating a pretzel. "What about me?"

Shutat didn't have _anything_ to say for several minutes; now that food was in front of him, he _ate_ - and heartily. It did seem to help the general feeling of weakness and nausea. Standing on a sidewalk, leaning on a building, and trying to eat rather inferior (but condiment-buried) hot dogs while trying to avoid getting anything on his trenchcoat - with limited success - Shutat could just about pretend everything was fine. Or at least getting there. After three hot dogs and a heavy hamburger, he ventured, _Could you say something...quietly?_ to Griever.

**This is as quiet as we can be, before you don't seem to hear us at all,** said Griever. 

The two blended voices still turned his stomach - enough that he didn't finish his fourth hot dog for a few minutes - but it wasn't as bad at all. _Not just hunger, then,_ he decided. _Don't say anything you don't have to._

The faintest murmur of sound was Griever's affirmation; a small purrish noise. When the three of them had polished off the mound of food - Chugi and Naia also looking better for the meal, however unhealthful - Shutat wiped off his hands and face and said, "That was one of your better ideas, Chugi. Thanks."

"Like I ever have a bad one?" grinned his friend. "You look worlds better, anyway. So - let's go do the chocobo thing."

"A_hem_," said Naia with an answering smile. "I seem to recall something about the DC and a pair of cadets who thought it would be great fun to provide the Headmaster with a custom selection of the kinkier class of Deling hooker cards..."

"Not my idea," said Shutat quickly. "Chugi said if I didn't go along with it, he wouldn't share any of them with me next time his folks visited there!"

"Coward," Chugi snorted. "Everybody knows Almasys don't like to play if they don't get to hunt. Hookers aren't their style, man, not at _all_. It was just a gag, anyway. Headmaster didn't need to get so pissy about it."

"An Almasy with a sense of humor is like a fish in a triathlon," said Shutat, in motion again. "I could've sworn he was waiting for me to cry feud on him."

Naia blinked as she and Chugi moved to follow. "You. Declare feud. On the _Headmaster_? I didn't think he thought you were that stupid."

Shutat grinned wryly in answer and tugged with one white hand at his bluish curls. "My family doesn't have a reputation outside of Esthar for being the brightest bulbs in the mageborn chandelier," he said. "And you can't be a SeeD without wanting to be able to fight. Ah...here we are..." he opened the door, and finished quietly, "...oh."

Anyone could tell that the building was dedicated to the love of chocobos. Photos, artistic renderings of internal organs, images of various greens, trophies, and autographed holograms competed with the huge off-track betting station and wide screen against the far wall. A young-looking man with mousey brown hair and a quiet expression stood beside the counter, taking in what on first glance were two SeeDs - Chugi and Naia - and the unmistakably mageborn Shutat. His friends had probably changed on the train, this being their continent, but Shutat avoided his uniform whenever possible. It simply wasn't warm enough.

Shutat almost felt sorry for the man; he wasn't a border guard or government official, to be used to seeing strange groupings. One of his kind in the company of SeeDs was unheard of. And by the young man's wary expression, probably not a good thing. So Shutat opened with, "It's all right, really. They're my friends."

The clerk blinked, his eyes briefly shifting emerald green before returning to a human blue. He said, in the simple gesture, _I am a mageborn of Carbuncle._ By inference, on Shutat's side against the SeeDs if necessary, and relieved to not be needed that way. "You make strange friends, stranger," he said mildly, but without reproof. "None of my business, but thanks for easing my mind anyway. I'm Charles. Charlie if you like." He waved a hand at the room. "What do you need?"

Shutat knew it would give him a headache, but he did Charlie the courtesy of returning a brief eyeshift of his own; brown eyes to blue-white, and watched Charlie frown again; the shade was uncommon, and he might not know that it wasn't just a variation on Leviathan. People, human and mageborn alike, generally didn't know the Bahamut gift well off-hand. "I need a ride, for myself and my friends, to Winhill as fast as can be done. I've been told this would be the place to start."

"And finish," agreed Charlie with a nod. "Leviathan?"

Shutat sighed. "Half-gifted Bahamut," he admitted. "Harmless," he hoped.

"Luck of the Cactuar," was Charlie's heartfelt reply. "Yeah, I can get you to Winhill. The carriage'll be here in about two hours, the fee's fifty gil per passenger." He eyed Chugi and Naia sternly. "And it's for our own, not for you, that I'm offering at all. Don't think either of you two can come back here and get tickets on your own. Do yourselves a favor and don't report how you got there to anyone, right?"

Naia accepted the reprimand and warning with a graciously bowed head; Charlie didn't need to know that she was Winhilli and had been the one to say that rides were possible. Shutat kept his expression carefully neutral, though he couldn't stop his eyes from shifting in the heat of his anger and had to close his eyes. Part of him longed to snap back "I'm a SeeD too! Of course we're not going to tell him!" - but that would serve no purpose at all. He was lucky Charlie seemed lost in a world of chocobos and didn't follow the extensive mageborn grapevines; Shutat was the only known Bahamut gift currently living, and it was generally known that he had joined the Gardens for training as a SeeD.

Chugi, quite clearly both human and SeeD, and as new to the chocobo carriage as Shutat, was possessed of a large and fiery temper that he was now restraining through sheer force of will alone. He couldn't hurt a Carbuncle gift and knew it - the gift was to summon an impenetrable shield that his martial arts were useless against - but he was deeply, deeply tempted to take the man by the shirt and give him a thorough seeing-to. He was a lifelong friend of mageborn, and didn't appreciate being so insulted on a casual meeting, without cause.

Shutat set his hand on Chugi's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "There won't be anything in the report," he agreed, and left it to Charlie to work out how Shutat knew that was the truth. He fished the required money out of his wallet and handed it over. "You should apologize, Charlie of Carbuncle," he continued mildly. "Don't you recognize the Dincht mark on his cheek?"

"Dincht?" the clerk blinked as the tickets and receipt printed. He handed the printouts to Shutat and took a closer look at Chugi's anger-reddened face. "No," he admitted, surprised. "I've never seen the mark myself before, and you weren't properly introduced." There was a mild censure for Shutat in that, for the omission. Bowing low to the SeeD, he said, "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said that if I'd known."

To Shutat, the rather stunned look on Chugi's face was more than worth the mild effort of cluing his distant kinsman in. Shutat well knew the sheer magnitude that particular name carried with his kind, and what made it all the more gratifying was that Chugi, one of hundreds of his house, _didn't_ know. Most mageborn were more world-aware, and accorded Chugi the respect they considered due his family instinctively; he'd never had it brought to his attention that there was a reason for it.

"Apology...accepted," said Chugi dazedly, and held out his hand. "Uh...don't bang your head on the counter or anything, okay? Only I just ate lunch."

Naia's hand rose to her mouth as fast as Shutat's did, and for the same reason; to smother a laugh. "You didn't _know_?" she asked, in the same way she might have asked how he could not know the sky was blue. "Chugi...some days I just don't _believe_ you."

Shutat steered his friends out the side door before Charlie could be inadvertently included in any more of the discussion he knew was coming. The carriage would be along in a few hours, and possibly they could see more of Timber while they waited, but he rather doubted it. For one thing, Chugi - while generally speaking a very intelligent person - had a hard time handling simple tasks like walking in a straight line when he was overwhelmed.

"Know?" he almost squeaked. "_Know?_ Know _what_, Naia?" One gloved fist cracked the brickwork as he punched it. "I thought they liked _me_. I didn't know it was this," and he indicated the blackflame tattoo on his cheek, "that they were being nice to. Why should I? It's not like it's anything they can't handle!"

"You're looking at it the wrong way," said Shutat, grabbing his friend's hand and forcing him to sit down on the bench built into the building's wall. "The mageborn you've met _do_ like you. When you're not trying to punch holes in their businesses, anyway."

Chugi's jaw set stubbornly. "I know what I just saw, Shutat," he snapped. "Don't try to tell me it's something else. He wouldn't've given me the time of day, and then you told him who I was and suddenly he's all nice!"

"Your name makes up for your lack of native charm in some circles, Chugi," said Shutat mildly. "And most mageborn you've met either already knew what family you belonged to, or liked you enough before finding out your name that it didn't matter. Charlie in there was only caught off guard. Sounds like if it doesn't have to do with chocobos, he's not interested."

Naia tapped her friend on the shoulder. "If it helps, Chugi," she said, "I'm more than happy to knock you flat right now for being stupid. That's not how it works with them. Mageborn don't kowtow to anybody."

"Well, Charlie in there sure looked like he was thinking about it!" Chugi all but shouted back at her.

Shutat and Naia exchanged a look, and Naia said, "Let me. You might break his jaw by accident," and Shutat nodded agreement. Instead, he grabbed and easily held Chugi by one shoulder as Naia swung a mean right hook at her friend's jaw, knocking him out with clinical precision.

"Good one," Shutat approved quietly, picking the shorter man up as easily as he might pick up a pillow, and laying him out on the bench. "He does get worked up about things."

Without warning, everything changed. In the blink of an eye, his friends were gone, the bench he'd just laid Chugi on was a rusted mass of twisted metal, and the scent of burning filled his nostrils. Shocked, he raised his eyes and looked around.

He was not alone. All around, men and women ran from buildings that were burning onto streets coated with ice. He could see the slickness of it, the puddles of melt near the flaming buildings, feel the tightening of his skin in anticipation of ice-burn. He didn't dare take off a glove to touch, but - "This is a vision," he said aloud, trying to force himself out of what he was seeing. "It's not real. It's a vision!"

A mob of screaming people were stampeding for him. He didn't dare find out _that_ way how real this was - he ducked into an alley instead, and fire engulfed him. That didn't bother him at all; the heat felt wonderful, and he focused on the fact that his clothes, which were leather and could burn, were not in fact burning. "Vision," he repeated to himself. "It's a vision. It's not real." But it certainly _felt_ real. This wasn't like before - it wasn't something he could prove to be in his mind. He walked, and the world appeared to move in accordance with his steps. What was happening?

_This was Timber_. He was sure of it. They were _in_ Timber, they'd just walked halfway across it. The cobblestone streets of the oldest part of the city's center, the open-timber construction the people were so proud of...all here, all aflame. But why?

Sense-shifted, he heard the sound of marching. Steady, cadenced footsteps, boots on stone, approaching. Shutat stayed in the fiery alley; only mageborn would go into such a place after him, and mageborn did not join armies - he hoped. When was this? How much time was there to stop the city from burning?

The booted steps came into view. Soldiers in violet uniforms, the rich, wine-dark purple that had once been called imperial. As they came, the fires burned higher and ice seemed almost to grow along the cobbles, bursting directly into steam as it reached the burning buildings. "Mageborn?" asked Shutat, unbelieving. Mageborn in uniforms? Mageborn destroying cities? He was an outcast for just being _trained_ as a soldier - who were they? When was this? He tried to look into their eyes, but even sense-shifted he couldn't see if there were telltale glows behind the mirrored eye-shields the soldiers wore.

He was alone, whenever this was. There was no one to report to. And he was _not_ going to let them, whoever they were, burn Timber to the ground. The ice on the streets made him snarl with rage as well as pain; it was meant to hinder the people fleeing, make them slip and keep them within range of the fires. Rank after rank of the purple-clad soldiers passed by his fiery alley; Shutat gathered his courage, drew the flamberge from its sheath on his back, and charged. If he was quick enough, he could cause a lot of confusion and maybe some casualties before they took him down.

He ran right through them. Literally; his body passed through their bodies, his sword left no mark. Proof of vision - but the lack of expected resistance sent him sprawling, off balance, onto the ice-coated street. His clothes protected him from most of the cold, but his cheek touched the ice directly and he screamed as the cold seared his skin.

"Shutat!" cried Naia's voice through the pain, and a hand came down on his shoulder, shaking him. "Shutat!"

The fire was gone, had never been. The sun shone, the bench still held a recumbent Chugi - he hadn't been gone even that long? - and Naia's light brown eyes were full of concern as she shook him. It wasn't the most welcome of welcomes; his mind was full of the clinging chill of the ice his cheek had touched; he half expected to touch his own face and find cold blisters there.

Griever tried to speak into his mind, but this time he didn't even hear words. A leonine roar echoed in his mind, so deafeningly loud that his hands clapped themselves over his ears automatically, nausea a rising like a tide in his stomach. Naia exclaimed something as he dropped to one knee, breathing hard with the effort of keeping recently eaten food down and his head from exploding with the force of Griever's voice. _Stop_, he cried, and did not know if he said it with his voice or his mind only. _I can't hear, I can't see. Stop!_

He couldn't tell whether the silence or loss of consciousness happened first - and didn't care, either, for either way the darkness was gentle and quiet.

Shutat woke to find himself taking up half the seating in a fairly small carriage, lying full in the setting sun and therefore almost comfortably warm. His head felt made of lead and his thoughts were sluggish, but he still made one thought clear: _Griever, don't talk. Walk around my thoughts if you have to, but don't talk. Not yet, not until I know I can handle it._ The visions were doing something, making the junction dangerous to touch or interact with. Hopefully the effect would fade and he'd be able to at least pass Griever on to either Chugi or Naia, but for now he had a bad feeling that _any_ attempt to do _anything_ with them would flatten him.

"You're awake?" asked Chugi quietly, worriedly, and after a moment Shutat managed to make his eyes focus on his friend, sitting with Naia on the other bench in the carriage. He'd changed out of his uniform, though he still had his combat gloves on. He reached over to touch Shutat's arm, lightly. "You've been out for hours. Just about all day."

"You've been sleeping a lot," Naia agreed. "We knew you weren't unconscious so much as sleeping, at least after the first half hour, but you've never been _that_ asleep before, that I know of. If there's nothing we can do, we're going to have to go back to Garden. You can't function like this."

"I don't have much of a choice," replied Shutat groggily, rubbing his cheeks with gloved hands in the hopes of shaking the echo of ice burn out of his mind. "I wasn't sleeping on the train, I was having visions. So I guess I've been catching up..." He made himself focus. Carriage. Two benches, facing each other and comfortably upholstered. They'd stretched him out on one of them, sharing the other between them. Closed space, windows on either side. "Where are our bags?"

"On the roof," said Naia brusquely, undiverted. "You can't do this if you're sleeping all the time, or off having visions. We'll have to go back to Garden."

Alarm cleared Shutat's head in a hurry, and his hand darted out to cover Naiad's mouth. "Don't. Say. That. Word," he whispered. "The driver can hear you. If he's been listening then you've just brought trouble."

Chugi blinked. "Chill, Shu," he suggested. "Mageborn don't..."

"Yes, they do," said Shutat. "Not openly, and they'll die before admitting it, but SeeD are _not_ part of the 'don't kill' ethic. We've been enemies from day one, and SeeDs who poke their noses into mageborn business _don't come back_. And you two are probably only safe because you were helping me. Don't push things. I don't even know how far Chugi's name will protect him."

Naia frankly stared. "So...that's how it is with you. Shutat, that's not how it's ever worked in Winhill - or Balamb either, I think. The driver won't hurt us unless we hurt him. Yes, you being along helps, but the Winhilli mean it when they say they won't kill." She sighed, resting her elbow on the windowsill of her side of the carriage. "How have - do you know what kind of risk your people are taking, doing that? What would happen if even one murder got back to the Gardens?"

Shutat adjusted his gloves, pulling them smooth. "Actually, yes," he said. "I'm probably the first one to see it from both sides. Pity that means neither side will believe me. From my mother's point of view, the SeeD declared war on us in the first generation. SeeDs killed mageborn first. SeeD made it clear at the time that it would watch mageborn, police them, as long as it exists. That mageborn would _never_ be free of that. So from her point of view, making sure the odd SeeD never returns to report is just self defense." He drew one of his knives, a slim throwing blade from a wrist sheath, and set the edges aflame. "Naia...they don't use powers like mine for that kind of job. How would SeeD ever know the reason their operative didn't come back was a mageborn, if the operative walks the streets in winter and his body is found frozen to death? Or if his body is never found at all - because it was needled into hamburger, and washed into the sewers? If a Leviathan gift rose from the water and pulled your operative into the water - how would you know?"

Chugi looked like he was inclined to be sick. "No wonder your people live like that, in Esthar. How many? How many dead are because you guys are doing this?"

"You think we keep records?" Shutat asked. "Chugi, we're bound the same way other mageborn are. We can't lie. We don't 'live like that' because we like it. We do it because we have to, because there's a good chance of being murdered ourselves if we don't. It's not our first option, but if someone pokes too far into our ways - they don't go home. That's all there is to it."

Naia looked as sick as Chugi, her lips twisted as she stared out of the window at the gradually-higher hills. "That's why you can't go back to Garden, isn't it," she said. "The Commander must know. If Chugi and I went on without you, _we_ wouldn't come back, either." 

Shutat wrapped his arms around his legs, in a creak of leather, resting his forehead on his knees so he wouldn't have to see their faces. "Not all the Lines have that view, I guess," he conceded. "Winhill, Balamb...we're part of things there. It's ...nice... to see everybody managing to get along. But we don't get along everywhere. In Deling, mageborn can be hunted - oh, I know it's not legal. It's not prosecuted, either. If a gang of kids with nothing better to do and their parents' rifles decides to blow hell out of a mageborn - the police won't investigate. They just don't care. In Esthar...not everywhere, but in some neighborhoods it's the same way. Deling mageborn live in little houses and don't draw attention, and keep in touch with their pagers and cell phones. Esthar mageborn live in walled ghettoes, us and them..." He sighed. "If we didn't hold our own, if there weren't just a little fear that pushing us too far might make us give up on this idea of everybody getting along and pull out all the stops...there wouldn't _be_ mageborn in Deling, Dollet, or anywhere in Esthar. Maybe not even in Timber." He thought a moment, and finished, "Yes. I'd guess the Commander is at least aware it's possible. He's a Kinneas - he's trusted. He doesn't stop us or talk, and we don't touch him or his. And the _only_ way the White SeeD could hide from the Gardens so well for so long is if there are a lot of mageborn involved in keeping them hidden. SeeD's got the best technology on the planet. You'd need first-rate hackers and engineers to get around the Gardens' detection systems."

"And you guys are smarter than us," said Chugi sourly, realizing there were multiple ways that fact could be used.

"On average, yes," Shutat admitted. "We were made to be. We don't _want_ the world, Chugi. We never have. We'd just like to not be hunted like animals or treated like dirt because we don't have any interest in dying for governments that, by and large, can't stand us."

There wasn't really any answer that could be made to that; the attitudes of the major powers toward mageborn were well documented - even, in some cases, relied upon by SeeD. And the reasoning seemed sound; if Shutat being what he was didn't factor into the success of his mission, why send him? And if the White SeeD did _not_ have mageborn in their ranks, how had they managed to hide from the most sophisticated detection systems on the planet for so long, leaving almost no clues even to their existence?

Shutat stretched out on his bench again, eyes closed, as if to sleep. There was nothing to see, anyway - just the thick trees of Timber's jungle, all around, and the narrow road the carriage followed. Here and there, faintly, Shutat heard the whisper of needles and knew the driver was a Cactuar gift. They were certainly safe enough.

_I can't keep doing this._ The thought rose in his mind with inescapable certainty. _I can't keep distracting them._ But he'd have to. Two visions in one day? Travel made times uncertain, but even if one of them _had_ been Bahamut's doing, this was dangerous territory. The last vision, especially, that one had been so..._real_...

Progression. He tried to remember the progression, the warning signs as his people knew them. That was half the problem, of course - the Bahamut gifts died just as their powers reached adult strength, and by and large that had come with puberty. All the prior accounts of his gift therefore came from children. _First are hunches - not just the usual kind._ Not a hunch as to which was the shorter path to school, but hunches like which path would have the bullies on it, and where they'd be, without seeing it as any kind of vision. Those, he'd always had. "Just lucky," he'd said at first, and changed that in Garden to "Tactical guess".

_Next are the visions._ Visions were new. Two, now, he could be sure were his own - one in Esthar, and one in Timber, one day or so apart. The third, Bahamut's vision...if it _were_ his own, and Bahamut had just twisted it, well, that was a very bad sign. But it was too convenient. More likely the Dragon had just pre-empted his sleeping time. He hoped so, anyway. They weren't lethal by themselves. They weren't a problem by themselves, except in the way of daydreams - the lack of attention to Now.

_We aren't sure what happens. We think you'll get lost in the visions. Forget where 'now' is. Once you lose your way back, it's a matter of days before you call more fire than you can control, and you'll die._ Was that what had happened today? The trouble was that all the first-hand accounts of his gift came from frightened children, and the gift was so internal that observers really didn't know what they were seeing. Shutat was older. He'd had more time to get used to the reality - that if his visions, his power, ever flowered, it would kill him. He wasn't _as_ scared as a boy or girl of twelve or thirteen would have been...but he was still frightened. Time. Everything, _everything_, became a question of time. How much time did he have before the visions overwhelmed him? How much time to find the Haven, and the White SeeD? He had a chance that no one of his gift had ever had, to _do_ something with the time he had. 

_How crazy is it, to be a prophet and to have no time?_ But the answer was in Winhill. At least one answer. He didn't just know that, he Knew it, with the certainty of his gift. There were Answers in Winhill. He just had to find them. The hunches were the least clear and most useful aspect of his gift. He needed - and the irony of it was bitter - _time_. Not just to see, but to live. He had to stop the visions coming so fast. Or slow them down somehow. Force his gift back into the box it had been in so long...but he knew, with the same firm Knowing that he had about Winhill, that there was no way to do that. He could slow his death, maybe, if he found the answer he was looking for. He couldn't stop it.

But he _could_ stop his friends from worrying. For a while longer. Divert them, distract them, downplay the significance of his visions' frequency or the disorientation that seemed to be getting worse with each succeeding event. He'd told them what they needed to look for when he lost it completely. If they were outside, of course, it wouldn't matter so much....and once again Shutat jerked his thoughts away from morbidity. _That_, there certainly was no time for. If he sank into mourning the inevitability of his own death, he'd be giving up precious time that was better used in _living_. SeeDs lived with the reality of death all the time, and most were no older than he was now. Chugi and Naia were his own age, or younger, and faced the prospect of dying on this mission, and _they_ weren't being morbid. Training helped. _Don't mourn a death that hasn't happened yet. You're alive, remember that. You might die tomorrow, but that's tomorrow. Today, you live. Be alive._ SeeD training had been valuable in more ways than one. The enemy was Enemy and to be given no quarter, and it didn't matter that his Enemy was inside him. He'd make the best use of the time he was given and he would _not_ dwell on what was to come, except as it affected his mission. He might have only a week or two, or he might have a month. Or a year. It didn't matter. Here and now he lived, and had at least most of his mind, and as long as he had life and sanity he would try to finish his mission.

_The answer's in Winhill._ He was sure of it. And with iron-hard resolve that almost managed to hide the black fear beneath, he determined to find that answer.

Settled in his own mind, Shutat drifted into true sleep.

* * *

Gradually, the hills around them grew wilder, steeper, and shed the burden of trees and jungle that surrounded Timber even now. Timber's primary industry was logging, and for miles around the city the jungle was really more a thick logging forest, as replanted woods were never as wild as the original, but past that it was true untamed rainforest, as it had been for thousands of years. That the little chocobo carriage had gone through the forest unscathed said a lot for the wariness of wildlife and monster-kind toward the mageborn, for it carried no visible armaments. When the carriage emerged from the tree-coated hills, Chugi and Naia looked out at a clear, starry night.

_Asleep again?_ Chugi flashed to Naia in hand signals, indicating Shutat.

_Yes,_ she signed back, shaking her head. _I don't like it. Maybe it's another vision._

Chugi's lips tightened at that, and his hand gestures through his combat gloves were sharp and quick. _He never had one vision the whole time we were cadets, and now he has them all the time._

Naia nodded, willing to concede that; she'd had no idea that a Bahamut gift wasn't just another fire-type of gift until this mission. _Maybe the final exam broke some barrier?_ she gestured slowly. _Blew a safety valve in him or something?_

_If he gets much worse we might as well give up,_ signed Chugi, shaking his head in turn. _There's no way he'd be able to find the White SeeD, unless they're in Winhill for some reason and he walks into one._

_I think it's really sleep_, Naia ventured, after watching Shutat for several minutes. _He was...more still?...when we were in Esthar. So hopefully he'll be up to helping us. I for one want to see the Catacombs._

Chugi made a small, irritated noise. _What's so big about a bunch of dead people?_ he demanded. _That's all catacombs are. Just tombs. Unless you were planning on grave robbing, there's nothing to do in them._

Naia grinned. _Not exactly. There's always been a few questions about them that I've wanted answered. The Catacombs should answer them for me._

_Like what?_ Chugi demanded. _They're all related anyway. Have to be, if all of them came out of six people. It's only been a few hundred years._

_Five,_ corrected Naia. _Five hundred years. And they're all over the place - well,_ she stopped herself, _maybe not so much in Timber, Dollet, or Deling City, but they're all over the place in Winhill and Balamb at least, and apparently Esthar too. But you can solve that just with sex, Chugi. I'm more interested in the skips. When they started happening. How they're counted._

Chugi didn't answer that right away. 'Skips' were humans born to mageborn parents, as well as mageborn born to human parents. They happened most often in Winhill and Balamb, but weren't unknown anywhere. At last he asked, _Why?_

_Because we are skips, Chugi,_ was Naia's serene answer. _We must be. Winhill and Balamb are closed societies, pretty much, and mageborn are the majority - or were - in both places. Which would indicate that any human from either place has the potential to have mageborn children. The thing is, I don't know what the odds are._

_Can't be_, was Chugi's first answer. _Because then there'd be mageborn Dinchts, and there aren't._

Naia's grin was positively superior. _They pay a lot of attention to names,_ she said. _I know Shutat's means something big - I'm not actually up on Esthari mageborn lineage so I'm not sure how big, but big._

Chugi snorted - quietly, so as not to wake their sleeping companion. _Like his mom's full of big ideas,_ he signed, his expression derisive. _You know the woman's shown up on our radar as trouble._

_More like his mother's where he got his lineage from,_ Naia signed back. _Look, it's too complex a theory for me to just lay it all out, and not in signs anyway. Just trust me that I think there's a lot of reasons besides Shutat's particular gift that the Commander wanted him on this mission. If we get to see the Catacombs, I'll show you then._

_Which brings us right back to square one,_ Chugi pointed out. _How long do you think he'll last, Naia? I mean, he's my friend and all, but this gift of his looks like it's making up for lost time in the killing him department._

Naia sighed aloud at that, her expression falling with his as they were brought back to the topic both of them were trying diligently to avoid. _I don't know,_ she admitted. _Whatever cap he had on it that kept him alive this long, it seems to be gone now. But just because he can see, I don't think it means he will...not all the time, anyway. Maybe he'll have a break, and it won't get any worse for a bit now that we're out of Timber._ She gave him a direct look. _Did you get any orders about Griever?_

_Yeah,_ Chugi admitted with a nod. _If he looks like he's getting a reaction, I'm to take the Griever junction and release Diablos._

"You what?" Naia blurted, so startled that she did so aloud. Then, with a guilty look at Shutat, who stirred briefly at the sound before settling back into sleep, she signed, _You what? Release Diablos? Don't you mean transfer?_

_Nope,_ signed Chugi levelly, not even smug that he'd gotten a completely unguarded response from her. _Those were my orders. If Shutat can't handle holding Griever, I'm to take over that junction and release Diablos. Part of our mission parameters are then to guard and protect Diablos as long as it stays with us._

Naia was stunned. To release a Guardian Force...there was no telling what would happen once the Force was released from the bindings of its junction. The last Guardian Force to be released was Leviathan, centuries ago, and it had been recaptured since. To not only _release_ the GF, but then to _guard_ it - well, that was frankly unheard of. _Why do you think you were ordered to do that?_ she asked. _There's no way the Garden administrators were all in favor of it. Diablos is a very useful GF._

Chugi only shrugged. _I have no idea,_ he admitted. _There honestly isn't any precedent - I checked the databanks. If precedent exists, it's during this Commander's tenure; everything else is open for SeeD perusal._ He paused thoughtfully, then added, _It's a very quiet junction. I mean most of them are, unless you get the advanced junction, but this one's quiet even for just a general junction. Like empty caves on a quiet night._

_As if any cave you were in for more than a minute could be called quiet,_ teased Naia. _Hey - I'm starting to recognize these hills. We're getting close._

_Wake Shutat?_ asked Chugi.

Naia sighed. "Coward," she said aloud, and then to Shutat, "Shu. Wake up. We're not far from Winhill."

Leather creaked and groaned as Shutat stretched on his bench, and gloved fingers rose in a now-habitual movement toward his temples. "I actually...don't feel terrible," he said, semi-hopefully, as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "How far?" he asked, looking out of the carriage window at the star-strewn hills.

"About an hour," Naia guessed. "Not more, probably less - my memory's rusty."

"Easily enough solved," said Shutat, and rolled down one of the windows to poke his head out into the night. "Driver! How far yet?" He waited, blue-white curls streaming eerily in the starlit wind, then ducked back inside and quickly rolled the window back up. Although the night was hot, his face was flushed as by a cold blast. "He says half an hour," he relayed to his companions. "And I think I'm rested for the first time since starting this mission. Which is good, because I've always heard good things of Winhill."

"You know," said Chugi, "either one of us could've poked our heads out and saved you the frostburn."

"Fifteen minutes?" Naia blinked. "I'm a lot more rusty than I thought, or this carriage makes a lot better time than I thought it would."

"Go with the second," Shutat offered. "Those chocobos look like ex-racers. Probably almost as fast as a train or car would've been." He paused, ruffling his gloved fingers through his curls. "Any idea where we can stay, in Winhill? I've heard they're not too open with guests, or SeeD."

"They're not," Naia agreed. "There's just one hotel in the whole city - and if I'd been thinking ahead properly I'd have booked us rooms. We'll just have to hope they have rooms free."

"Hm," Shutat frowned. "There might be another option, but it wouldn't be comfortable. My mother's a Pandemona gift - that's not so common, outside of Esthar, I understand. But she told me that mageborn who knew to ask at the Airstations for a place to sleep could usually get a cot in the hangar at least, in exchange for a few hours of using their gift for the Airstation in question. So that may be an option. I _know_ that Winhill has an Airstation. Or at least an airport."

"That might just be for Esthar, or Pandemona gifts," Naia warned. "I can't see it being that common otherwise."

Shutat's good humor wasn't dimmed. "Then we'll just have to hope you're able to get us rooms at the hotel," he grinned. 

Chugi didn't say anything, but his knowing snicker was a dead giveaway to his feelings. It was the only sound in the carriage as a huge shadow loomed out of the hills; the walls of Winhill. In the night, they seemed impossibly high, impossibly thick, and the guns stationed every fifty feet were impossibly huge.

**This is the city of your vision,** Griever pointed out, and Shutat was pleased that it only hurt a little bit. Perhaps he'd only needed some real sleep, after all.

_Yes, I suppose it is,_ he agreed, surveying them. _They were burning, and broken in places. Damn, the place is huge. What kind of army would it take to do that kind of damage to a city as fortified as this?_

**Tens of thousands, and at least a thousand magic users,** Griever opined seriously. **But apparently someone will be determined enough to gather such a force.**

_But why?_ Shutat blinked, as the carriage pulled up to the huge, outward-swinging gates. It stopped for a few minutes as the driver and the gatekeeper exchanged codewords or passwords. _I mean, aside from the fact that it's really well defended, what is the point of using that kind of manpower to attack it? The Winhilli have nothing unique but chocobos, and most military folk prefer mechanized transport anyway._

**Nevertheless,** Griever repeated. **This is foreseen as burning.**

The carriage was going much slower now, the way jagged and bumpy and jarring, for the road was rutted earth. Beyond the huge wall, to Shutat's surprise, wasn't a city but a slice of history. Houses and boardwalks and rooms that were entirely antiquated. There were yards, single storey houses, and a dearth of apartment complexes. _It's wonderful_, said Shutat, thinking of the cramped highrises of Tears' Point.

"All out," said the driver, and as Shutat and his friends got out of the carriage, the driver started tossing their bags down to them. "Hotel's that way," he said helpfully. "Have a nice night." He then proceeded to ignore them entirely as he began releasing his chocobos from their harnesses, whistling at them and fussing over them.

"Well," said Shutat, amused, as he shouldered his duffel. "I guess that's as good a welcome to Winhill as any stranger's likely to get." Grinning at Naia, he said, "Let's go find ourselves a place to sleep."

"You sleep any more, Shu," warned Chugi, "and I'm gonna start calling you Van Winkel."


	7. Winhill

The Winhill Hotel - there was, in all truth, only one - nestled almost up against the outer wall, on one of the main roads through the town. Naia indicated that Shutat should handle getting them rooms; from her attitude he guessed that her familiarity with the town would combine badly with her SeeD uniform in local eyes. Shutat was, at least, quite clearly not Winhilli; although he spoke the language understandably, his pronunciation was choppy to local ears. It wasn't a language generally taught any more; the people of Winhill were insulated to an almost pathological degree, and generally the only words of their own language that left the city had to do with chocobos and chocobo races.

The rooms in the hotel, though, were clean and pleasant and even scented - faintly, so that Chugi and Naia barely noticed it and Shutat wasn't overwhelmed. It made him smile; here, definitely, was a town his kind had an influence on. It was homelike in a classical rather than accurate sense; the ambience of 'home' without having any of the Esthari specifics Shutat personally associated with the word. And - very much to his relief - when the three of them tossed their bags to the floor and got into bed, he joined his friends in actually _sleeping_. Rip van Winkle or not, catching up on his rest after the visions was crucial and he knew it.

The next morning, he felt more himself than he had since the final exam. Better, even; it was like a premonition of happiness, and he grinned as his friends discussed the mission over breakfast.

"We ought to see the Catacombs first," Naia was insisting. "For all we know, they're huge - we're going to want to leave enough time to be thorough."

"Birds are singing," said Chugi, annoyed. "The hills are fucking alive. And _you_ want us to spend all day with dead people? Shutat, can't we spend a day - you know, _sightseeing_?" He pointed a fork at Naia. "And what about your folks? Aren't you gonna say hi?"

Naia froze, looking sad. "I don't know," she admitted. "SeeD - it's not the most loved group around here."

"Think it over," advised Shutat. "We may not be back this way again." But that he knew was wrong, even as he said it, and he thought it over. No visions this morning, but his hunches were unusually strong and clear. He _knew_, in a way that required neither evidence nor proof, that they would leave and return. _Something forgotten and gone back for?_ he wondered, _Or something returned to?_ That was the problem with hunches. They were so independent of what was actually going on. He shrugged. The problem, as ever, was the present time. "Anyway, yes. We should start with the Catacombs. I doubt the White SeeD are hiding from mageborn; there might be something down there to give us a starting point." His earlier feeling of happiness returned, but this time Shutat knew it for the premonition it was - certainly there was nothing happy about crypts and tombs, and indeed Chugi had a sour look. He put his gloved hand on Chugi's arm. "It's time, Chugi. I can't afford to waste any. If you want to go sightseeing today...feel free to. We'll meet you back here tonight."

Chugi looked stung. "Uh...no," he demurred, shaking his head. "It's no fun alone, anyway." He made an exasperated sort of sigh. "Fine. Dead people it is, but I want sightseeing before we leave, okay? You can make time for that."

"I'd like to," Shutat agreed. "We'll see what we can dig up."

"Oooh, already with the gallows humor," groused Chugi, finishing his breakfast. "Right. Let's go, then. What are we looking for? _Here lies the last captain of the white SeeD_ or some such?"

"We're looking for whatever we find," Shutat shrugged. "I know there's something there." He tapped his temple with a gloved finger. "My Gift has been driving me here. Why, I don't know. But there's something here to find. It's just a matter of keeping our eyes open."

"We're the first ever SeeD mission to be guided by prophecy," grinned Naia, stacking plates. "Okay. Off to the Memorial it is."

The SeeD Memorial was a huge building, carefully tended bright white marble, standing alone on the outer bluffs. Although Winhill had grown significantly since the Memorial had been built, the area around it was always left clear and open. Its name was carved in the lettering of the international trade tongue - used as a primary language by the SeeD - over the entrance, but there were no guards, no guides. It was empty. On either side of the ascending steps into the building stood a statue; one of an angel, watching heaven, and one of a lion watching the world below.

"Winhill doesn't approve of SeeD and never has," Naia explained as they approached - walking, because they knew they'd end up underground and didn't want to try guiding chocobos there. "The memorial was built by the Loire family here..." she wiggled a hand. "A long time ago, but it's because of them that it's here. I forget why."

"Holy...shit..." breathed Chugi as they stepped inside. "Shu...Shutat, look. It's _him_."

Chugi was staring, eye to stone eye, with his ancestor. Shutat looked around; six statues. Life-size, completely life-like, he knew. It was strange to see, perfectly rendered in stone, a face he'd only seen in a dream. _Zell Dincht_, read the plaque at the base, but none of them needed it. Not with Chugi staring at it like he half-expected it to move. Not with the tattoo on Chugi's cheek carved in stone on the statue. "Okay," said Chugi slowly. "This takes the cake for eerie. Man oh man. Wait'll I go home and tell the folks."

"Don't they already know?" asked Naia, walking around the room examining the statues. "The Memorial is open to all. That's part of why it's outside Winhill in the first place."

"Knowing there's a thing of him here, and actually seeing it? _So_ two different things," said Chugi in a more normal tone of voice, and then nearly squeaked as he examined the display cases on the back wall. "Hey look! They've got a replica of the gloves here, even! D'you think they'd mind if I tried 'em on?"

"Chugi!" snapped Shutat, before his friend swung into hyper. "Don't screw around with the exhibits, or I'll tell your great uncle about it the first chance I get."

"Whoa," said Chugi, visibly calming at the threat. He raised his hands in an 'all right, all right' sort of gesture. "Right. Lookee, no touchee -" he looked around. Statues, freestanding in what were presumably indicative poses, and display cases of weapon replicas, Commander mementos, and uniform changes down the centuries..."But speaking of lookee, I don't see any catacombs." The display cases covered the walls floor to ceiling, on all the walls. There was no sign of any sort of door. The Memorial appeared to be a one-room museum.

"That's because the entrance is hidden," said Naia, looking at a statue of Selphie. "And it's one of the girls..."

Shutat joined her, looking at a statue of Ellone near the entrance. "Why hide it?"

"Mageborn thing," Naia shrugged. "Okay, it's not Selphie. Maybe it was one of the -" she craned her neck up at the statue of Irvine. "If it's him, you're opening it," she finished. "Anyway, mageborn get awfully closemouthed about some things and the catacombs are one of them. I know they're here, the way in is here - I've been _in_ them before, the upper level anyway. But it's a mageborn trick to open the door."

"Is it?" Shutat blinked. "Well...there's only one trick I know of that any of us can do." And he let his senses shift. At the heart of four of the statues was - something, and he blinked.

**They are Sorceress tokens,** said Griever in his thoughts. **Say nothing of them. Ask Chugi to touch one of the four statues.**

Blinking at the request, Shutat obeyed just to see what would happen. "Hey, Chugi - while I'm looking, maybe Naia can snap your picture with the honored ancestor, huh? Give your ...whatever-great-grandfather a set of bunny ears."

"I do that and my uncle will take _mine_ right _off_," retorted Chugi, but he liked the basic idea. He put his arms around the statue and affected the cheesiest I'm-getting-my-picture-taken grin he could, so that Naia laughed as she snapped his picture.

_What was that for?_ Shutat asked, relieved at the absence of headache.

**Zell wanted to see his descendant,** Griever replied, amused about something. **The tokens allow us to see whoever touches the statues. We'll let you know what he thinks if you like, when he's done laughing.**

Shutat blinked. That was interesting - the statues functioned like his earring, then. Preoccupied, he returned to his sense-shifted scan of the hall. Squall and Rinoa, looking exactly like their statues, were discussing something with someone he could not see - probably Zell, as they were near that statue. He turned his eyes to the other statues. "There's a seam on the Quistis statue," he said.

"So it _was_ one of the girls!" Naia grinned, heading over. "Where is it?"

Shutat and Chugi joined her. Quistis was depicted in a knee length skirt and short vest, a stone whip - identical to one of the more mobile displays, the stone version was held at the ready, winding in the air about her. "Her arm," Shutat said, showing her the hairline seam where her arm met the shoulder of her vest. "The workmanship is incredible."

Naia gave the arm a tug, and shook her head. "It's not moving."

"You said it was a mageborn trick," Shutat reminded her, and - gently but firmly - took hold of the statue's arm, forcing the whip hand down, so that the winding whip around Quistis' body changed its angle. Under his hand the arm moved smoothly and easily, and the floor rumbled. The three companions turned to the source - the floor before the statue of Squall and Rinoa. One of the huge floor slabs lifted out of the floor and scooted to the side, revealing a stair.

"Okay...funtime's over," said Chugi, nerving himself as he looked down into the dark. "Tell me there's torches down there?"

Naia tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a flashlight from her bag. "Let's get up to this century?"

"Have you seen the webs down there?" Chugi demanded. "Ugh. Nobody's been down there for years."

Shutat reached behind him and drew his flamberge, setting it aflame with his gift. "Just until I see some torches," he offered, and led the way down the stairs, burning webs as he walked. "You might get spiders in your hair."

Chugi breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, man," he said, and followed Naia - who was laughing about brave SeeDs squeaking about spiders - into the depths.

The Catacombs were spacious and well-built, the stones barely cracked after all the time untended. Shutat found torches at the bottom of the stairs, lit three and passed two to his companions. They set about helping burn away the everpresent webs as they walked, hoping to see some sign of where to go. There were no words, but there were carvings, set deep in the stone above the many archways. Nunchaku, whip, gun, gloves. And a star. "Chugi...do your family inter people here?"

"Uh...maybe?" Chugi offered. "If we make SeeD, yeah maybe..." He eyed the archway marked with a glove. "Can we give that a miss? I'm kinda thinking it's not statues, down here."

"Fair enough," said Shutat. "I'm not feeling particularly morbid, myself." He indicated the archway with the star. "I think this is the one we want." Waving his torch to burn webs as he walked, he headed down it - it _did_ go downward, twisting and descending - and heard the hurried steps of his companions following behind. The tunnel opened out into a huge hall, possibly directly below the last one. "Oh...sweet Hyne."

Before them were six more statues; just as life size, and life like, as the ones above, standing on small pedestals. Shutat stood frozen as he regarded them, and his companions spread out to look at them. "I thought they'd be bigger," remarked Naia, gently teasing. "Towering giants of magebornosity and so on, you know?"

"Just keep it up, Naia, keep it up," warned Chugi. "You've been itching to say something like that all morning, haven't you?"

Shutat walked from statue to statue. No names. Carved sigils, representing powers. Cactuar - Nodwydd, that was, his hair over his eyes and a child in his arms. Cariad and Chwaer, diminutive beauties, smiling and holding hands, the twins never separated, and the horned sigil of the Brothers at the base of the statue. Daear, a crown on her head and an imperious posture, the symbol of Diablos at her feet.

"You don't look like him," Chugi noted as Shutat came face to face with his own ancestor, Gwynt. Or as face to face as he'd ever get; the statue was quite short, Chugi's size perhaps, as even on its pedestal Shutat could look over the top of the hat. He hadn't seen Gwynt in dreams, hadn't known what to expect. But there was a resemblance there - not to himself that he could see, aside from the carved curls, but to Kochi. Gwynt wore an ankle length trenchcoat that was billowed as if in a breeze, with a shotgun over his arm and a hat with a wide brim and a huge trailing feather on his head. Alone of the statues, he held hands with a woman; even smaller than he, she wore an antiquated version of an Esthari pilot's uniform. At his feet, the symbol of Pandemona was carved; the woman had no symbol at all, but he knew who she was.

"I wouldn't expect to," Shutat said faintly. "It's been a long time." Gwynt and Cho. He should have expected he'd see them. Looking at the statues, he regretted he'd never meet them. Kochi, their son whom he'd met in dreams, was so perfectly balanced between them. But that wasn't where he needed to go; he already knew his own family had nothing to do with the SeeD; he was the first, ever, to consider it. He turned his attention to the last statue.

Taran certainly didn't look like a king. The statue held a white staff in its hands, bare of shirt, in pants that were almost more hole than cloth. His long, ragged hair was bound in a waist length braid, and across his back was a guitar case. His expression was distant, dreaming, and at the statue's base was the lightning-stroke symbol of Quezacotl.

"So...he's your king?" asked Naia, puzzled. "How come she's the one with the crown then?" and she pointed at Daear.

"I don't know why she wears a crown," Shutat admitted. "But Taran's the King, yes. He's called the King, or the Master, because he's the only one who was ever able to unite all of us into one group. No one's managed it since." He shrugged. "I've heard stories he'll come back, sometime when we actually _need_ uniting, but..." he remembered the man he'd spoken to. "I don't think that will be soon."

Chugi came over to take a look - he'd been trying to lift the hat off of Gwynt's head. "Hey - that staff isn't stone."

Shutat blinked. Chugi was right - all the statues were white stone, but the staff in Taran's hand - while white - was not. Gingerly, he took off his glove and twitched at the coolness of the air as he touched it. Some shock-absorbent polymer. He put his glove back on and frowned. "Why...?"

"Let's go this way," Naia said, indicating the corridor marked with Taran's lightning bolt. "White staff. White SeeD. If anyone has a better lead I'm open, but we've got to go _somewhere_."

"I'm agreeable," said Shutat, thinking of Taran's son Jerolin, in his white SeeD uniform. He hadn't wanted to help, he'd said it was Shutat's job to prove the SeeD were serious in seeking a reconciliation. But the dead didn't have to keep secrets...he waved his torch over the dusty webs that hid the names of those entombed, looking for clues.

"Can I just say this place is not my idea of a wonderful destination?" sneezed Chugi, wiping dust away from names. "Look at this...skeletons wearing feathers."

Shutat blinked. "Feathers?" Jerolin hadn't looked the sort to tolerate that, and they were still near the entrance. Taking a look, he found Chugi was right. The skeleton wore beads and feathers, long left to rot. Carefully, he examined other bodies on that side of the wall. Nearly tribal adornments decorated most of the skeletons. "Look for bodies with medals, rank bars..."

"I'm not finding any," Naia called, from significantly farther away. "No uniforms, no medals. They're just people on this side."

And tribes on this side. Shutat frowned down at the yellowed bones. Tribes. He'd hoped, vaguely, for some sign that the descendants of Taran were still part of the White SeeD. And then he sighed, realizing he should've understood before. Jerolin's uniform had worn _naval_ bars - if the white SeeD were still on ships, they'd bury their dead at sea. Not in crypts and catacombs.

Still - he did know there was a connection, and seeing the statues convinced him of the value of his dream. These people were kin of Jerolin's. If he found _them_, they could probably at least give him a trail to follow... "Did either of you two take native studies?" he asked hopefully. _He_ certainly hadn't. But there was a distinctive style to the adornments on some of the bodies. And he didn't exactly have anything else to follow as a lead.

Naia came over to where he and Chugi were tentatively poking at skeletons. "It's Galbadian," she said definitively. "But I couldn't tell you the tribe. You can find things like that all over this continent in the tourist shops. Here to Deling and back again."

Galbadian. And nothing more specific. He sighed. "Looks like we're going out into the wilds, then," he said, indicating the bodies. "We need to find these people's descendants. And if they think enough of this stuff to bury family in it, they're probably with the tribes somewhere."

Chugi made a face that probably translated as "my brain is breaking". "Native mageborn," he said slowly. "Wearing - what, loincloths and -" he glanced at the bodies - "too many beads? This job just gets weirder and weirder..."

"There's no telling what they wear day to day," Shutat sighed. "But if we can find some of Taran's Line, we'll probably be able to find the White SeeD."

"That's reaching," remarked Naia, examining a necklace. "What makes you say so?"

Shutat debated telling them about the dream, and decided against it. Too much about it was strange, too much basically irrelevant. So he shrugged and said, "I just know."

"If it means we can _go_ now, I'm all for the idea," said Chugi. "We haven't had a good fight since the field exam. If we're hunting aborigines, we'll find plenty of fight."

Shutat didn't care one way or the other about potential fights, but he did like the idea of getting out of the catacombs. "Yes," he agreed. "Let's go."

Getting out was easier than getting in; all they really had to do was follow the cleared path they'd made in coming down. Shutat made them put the torches back, and put them out, so that whoever came here next could use them, and set one of his daggers aflame to guide them the rest of the way out. Fresh air was terribly inviting, after the hours of dust - for they came out to find it was late afternoon. Chugi celebrated by inhaling until his chest puffed out. "Whew. Those hallowed ancestors really need a spring cleaning, you know?" he said, and set off at a brisk pace for the walls of town.

Shutat shared a look with Naia, who shrugged. "I can't really argue," she said. "But if you're sure we found something useful, I won't complain."

Implicit in the statement was a request for reassurance, and Shutat gave it to her. "Yes. We found something." He looked rueful. "We found _not here, try over there_, but it's something." He couldn't be very upset about it. Something was in the air, something bright and wonderful, and after his visions of fire and destruction it was more welcome than he could say. He strolled down the gravel path with his hands in his pockets, and watched Naia race to tackle Chugi to the ground. _A few hours of sightseeing can't hurt,_ he hoped. _Since we'll need to find chocobos we can travel with anyway._

Griever offered no comment, and Shutat wondered briefly if they'd lost interest in him for a while, and were wandering the memorial or its crypts. It didn't matter. The quiet was welcome, anyway. Relative quiet; no visions, no chatter, just the wind in the hill-grasses and the sound of his boots on the gravel path. And, somewhat more distantly, laughing taunts and threats from his two friends as they played a rough-and-tumble game of tag. _Some disciplined SeeDs we are,_ he smiled to himself. But then, this was a wide open area; they'd know in more than enough time to respond if monsters got close enough to be a threat. There was no harm in relaxing a little, though Shutat knew that wasn't the reason he was doing it. No...it all tied back to the feeling of joy. If he hadn't gotten so familiar with the sensations of prophecy, he'd have suspected Chugi of putting something in his breakfast on the off chance it might work on him.

As they'd been seen leaving that morning, and none were wearing uniforms today, the three of them walked back into Winhill easily enough. In daylight the village seemed just that - a relatively rustic haven in an otherwise advanced world. Busy, yes - the houses and apartments were built almost up to the wall that surrounded the village. But the streets were well planned, and widely built, and the open-frame houses were kept in good repair. It was idyllic to the point of unreality, unless one raised one's eyes to the high steel wall that surrounded the city; Winhill was a city-state that was always, forever, a breath away from war. "...Naia?" asked Shutat, looking at it. "Why did you leave here?"

"That," she replied simply, pointing at the wall. "That wall works both ways, Shutat. It keeps the world out - both empires. But it keeps our people _in_, too. They don't think about the world outside that wall, they don't care about it. If it crosses their minds at all, it's a crazy place filled with crazy people who deserve whatever they get." She shrugged, adjusting her combat gloves. "I couldn't stand looking at that wall. So I left. Winhill's not a bad place to be from, but it wasn't for me."

Chugi was prowling the store-windows, looking for souvenirs. "Think my ma would like one of those little china...um, things?" he asked, pointing at a rack of ceramic rings.

"They're napkin holders," said Naia, "and if you don't know what they are, I'd guess she doesn't use them."

"Damn," sighed Chugi. "You know she's gonna want souvenirs of anywhere she hasn't been."

"Now I'm wounded you didn't look for anything in Esthar," grinned Shutat, and blinked as the sun - coming out from behind a cloud - reflected blindingly off a nearby building. "Ow! We need sunglasses to protect us from buildings, here?"

"Hyne," Chugi breathed, staring at the source of glare in wide-eyed delight. "It's worth it. What is that, the mayor's palace or something?"

The building in question was faced with gold-leaf shingles, the entire front carved to look like a red-gold bird with downswept wings that covered the doors. By itself it was a work of art, nestled calmly on the avenue as if it were nothing special. "Naia?" prompted Shutat, curious.

"Temple of the Phoenix," said Naia. "There's so many mageborn here that most GF cults don't really have a following, and the Church of Hyne never got off the ground because Sorceresses don't stay here. There aren't any Phoenix mageborn, though, so it's got a big membership. It's just a church, guys - nothing big."

"Is that so?" Shutat mused. "I don't think I've ever seen one. Do they keep records? Births, marriages?"

Naia blinked. "I think so," she agreed. "Why? Do you want to see if there are any of Taran's descendants on the rolls?"

"Actually, I just want to poke around inside," Shutat grinned. "But it's a good enough excuse." And he led the way to the doors, which turned out to be feathers in the wings.

Inside, the temple was awash in red-tinted light from high windows - red and orange and yellow, patterned like flames and quite beautiful. Not beautiful in the way expensive things are beautiful, though there was that as well; it was beautiful because everything in it radiated care and attention. The carvings were meticulously detailed and kept clean and polished. The floor tiles were worn but of solid make, the color being uniform all the way through and not glazed on. Old - the place was old, possibly hundreds of years old, but _loved_.

"Can I help you?" asked a female voice, and the three of them turned away from their absorption of various details to see who had spoken.

This took a few moments.

The girl - about their age, perhaps in her late teens, had black hair with a strong greenish tint that fell just past her shoulders. The color would have instantly pointed to her being mageborn, as Shutat's hair did, except that the rest of her attire gave the impression that her hair was just along for the ride. Ragged, fingerless fishnet gloves covered her hands and arms up past the elbows, her clothing in angular cuts of vivid colors, sewn together like patchwork, made up a sleeveless vest and a miniskirt, and more fishnet - in tights this time - dropped down into heavy industrial-grade calf -high black boots. On her forehead, almost unnoticeable within the rest of her oddity, was a tiny black eight pointed star. Not one of the three knew what to say to the strangeness, particularly since the girl's stance and bearing said she was quite confident of her ability to forcefully demonstrate her distaste of any untoward questions.

"We're just looking," offered Shutat, and - on a hunch - bowed. "Shutat ab Llew of Bahamut." He indicated his companions. "Chugi Dincht, and Naia Moasi."

The girl held out her hand. "Zia Loire, of Eden."

Shutat blinked. Eden was almost as rare a gift as his own, and feared at least as much. He reached out and took her hand in his own gloved pair as a gesture of goodwill; the Edenites were vampires, whose abilities came from taking them from others. But why - he stopped. Zia _Loire_. That was probably why. The little star... "You're a Seer?"

She nodded. "And sane, yet, which puts me above you, at least by reputation. You're old, for a Bahamut, aren't you?"

"Yes," Shuat agreed faintly. "Yes, I am." An Edenite, and a Seer...what a combination. The Loire family had a reputation for being gifted prophets - and not like the Bahamut gifted, either. The Loires who had the Sight, it was said, saw only what actually would come to pass. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure if a full introduction would be required. I'm Shutat Iigeru ab Gwynt."

Zia grinned. "You're a _long_ way from home," she noted. "What brings you to Winhill?"

Shutat barely noticed Chugi and Naia share a look and head over to a small shelf of statuettes. His attention was on the girl whose gifts matched his own for rarity. "Technically...a hunch," he said, not wanting to discuss his mission. "I've been looking for some people, and I came here to find a trail I could follow."

The girl hopped up to sit on an altar. "Sounds like you have," she said. "You found me."

"Excuse me?" Shutat blinked, surprised. "I wasn't looking for you, I think..." But even as he said it, he wasn't sure. She was a Seer; maybe she could tell him which of his visions were true. No... he could _feel_ his own power reacting to her, and that had never happened before. Not that anyone really _knew_ what his Gift was capable of, aside from killing anyone who had it. Maybe it was normal to react to other prophets? As far as he knew, there had never been two Bahamut gifts in the same place at the same time...

"You're a Bahamut gift?" Zia asked, knowing the answer. "Do you see visions?"

Lost, Shutat only nodded. She was very comfortable in this place, he thought inconsequentially. Priestess?

"Well, I can take visions away." Her eyes shifted, dark green to purple-green fields. "I didn't give you a full introduction either. I'm a _luck_ Edenite. I take _futures_."

That caught everyone's full attention - Chugi and Naia were both immediately on the defensive, abandoning their conversation in the corner, but Shutat was simply thunderstruck. Luck Edenite! He understood now. She was right, she had to be what he'd come here for. Edenites were the only gift that drew their powers not from themselves, but from people around them - there were many varieties possible, strength and speed and intelligence and so on, but _luck_...and she was a Seer as well.

Zia could see the future that would happen. And if she didn't like it, she could use her gift to take that future away - and more, _use_ that now-never future to grant herself good fortune. She could take away the chances everyone had for terrible lives, and use those futures to give herself a _wonderful_ one. "How long have you been drawing me here?" he demanded, aware now that her gift had to be crossing paths with his. The futures she destroyed would not be visible to his power; she took a thousand possible paths and condensed them down to one great road he could not _help_ but see. No wonder he'd been having visions of Winhill. No wonder he'd been so cheerful all day! Shutat's own power was like seeing the tips of every branch when standing within the tree's trunk. Zia's foresight showed her only the line of the trunk - and if she didn't like it, her Edenite gift let her trim the trunk off and make the most favorable 'branch' the new trunk. Every time she used _her_ power, Shutat's power had less to see - making his visions both fewer and more useful, nearer her own.

"I didn't know you existed," said Zia with a grin. "So how could I draw you here? At least, on purpose. I _have_ been using my gifts lately though. Nothing bad," she added hastily, as Chugi and Naia looked very apprehensive. The reputation of Edenites as vampires was truly well deserved. "A boy would have drowned a few days ago; I took that future. Things like that." She indicated the beauty of the church. "I work here - keeping the place clean, explaining it to tourists like you." She returned her attention to Shutat. "I don't Foresee everything. Just - bad things. Those are what I take. I can do that for you, too. For a while?"

He knew what she meant. She could take futures, give him time - make the date of his death as late as possible. But she couldn't control _his_ Gift or shut it off, and that meant sooner or later it _would_ kill him. Chance she could affect; certainties she had no power over. The penny was already falling - even with sudden winds and passing cats and any other possible interruption to its fall that could be devised, it _would_ hit the ground.

Shutat had heard of fated romances. He wasn't prepared to go that far - but he'd certainly found a fated, and much-needed, friend. Or more accurately, she'd found _him_. It was her Gift doing the twisting. "I'd appreciate that," he agreed. "If you can come."

"Not a problem," she replied cheekily. "You three'll be at the Hotel, of course. Nowhere else for you to _be_. I'll get things settled and meet you there tomorrow morning. Later!" And with that she darted out of the temple, laughing.

Chugi and Naia watched her go, and neither of them were smiling. "Shutat," said Naia, "Do you want the full list of the rules you've just thrown out of the window? She's a civilian, she's got nothing to do with us -"

Shutat interrupted. "Yes, she _does_," he insisted. "Naia - Chugi - you have to understand what she _told_ me."

"We've got ears," said Chugi flatly. "Our ears told us you just invited a vampire we've never seen before along on a _mission_. Are you sure she didn't charm you or something?"

"She offered me time!" Shutat snapped, annoyed. "Naia, she's a mageborn. I am not going to worry about her ability to take care of herself if the need arises, particularly not with _that_ gift. And she's got everything to do with us - she's the reason we're _here_."

"Charmed!" snapped Chugi, really worried now. "I knew it!"

Shutat was just about ready to start tearing his curls out. "No!" he thundered. "I am _not_ under a spell, damnit! Did either of you _hear_ her say what she can do?"

"We heard her say she can take people's futures," said Naia, standing almost at battle-ready. "Such as maybe the one where you _listen to your friends_, huh?"

Shutat blinked. "No," he said. "No, no, no you have to listen to me." He sense shifted, indicated his Bahamut eyes with a gloved hand. "This vision - this isn't what _will_ happen. It's what _might_ happen. Or what already _has_ happened. I have no way to know, when I have a vision, if it's the future or the past that I see, or whether it can happen or can't. That's part of why this Gift is so dangerous. We can't _tell_ what we're looking at. And we don't even have the satisfaction of thinking if we wrote it all down that it'd make any difference. For all I know, my visions are of things that happened hundreds of years ago and there's nothing I can do, or futures that will never happen. Zia can _take my visions away_. She can take away all the ones that don't matter and leave me with the ones that we can _do_ something with. And in doing _that_ she gives me _time_ - time where I'm not lost!"

Chugi scowled. "I'm not saying that's not a good thing, but there's still the part about inviting a civilian along on a mission, Shutat."

"Is it better or worse than me never _finishing_ the mission, owing to being dead?" Shutat shot back. "Look. Mageborn are needed to find the white ships. That's half of why I've got the mission in the first place - the Commander didn't have anyone else to send. And as for the other mission, I don't know that I can do it without her help. She's been taking futures around here - altering timelines. And every time she does, my _own_ Sight gets dragged here. To Winhill. How am I supposed to finish my mission if my Sight keeps winding up focused here? She's got to come with us. Then her power's working _for_ us as opposed to making our job harder. We're allowed civilian specialists."

Naia started laughing, helplessly. "Civilian specialists - for fortune telling!" she giggled, a hand over her mouth to keep the sound from carrying far. "I have to admit, as first missions go, this is definitely not what I'd have expected." She shook her head, quieting. "She's not off the hook, Shutat. We're not welcoming her until we know she's trustworthy for this mission - she could just as easily decide to protect the secret of the ships, whatever it is, and kill us in our sleep." She held up a hand to stop Shutat from arguing. "I know - mageborn don't kill unless they have to and won't get caught. But she'll have plenty of chances to do just that, so we're going to do _our_ job and keep an eye on her."

"And you're going to tell me how she's been doing this from half a world away," said Chugi. "I mean - we were in Esthar when you were having visions of Winhill, Shu. If she can drag your visions around, how the hell are we supposed to get anything done?"

Shutat made a face. "Her gift thinks I'm good luck, I think," he said. "Look - when she uses her power, she's doing a lot of things at once. She's got to be." He frowned, trying to put words around what his whole nature was accepting as iron fact, trying to _think_ the way they thought - the way he'd thought too, before this morning, and the thought would've worried him at another time. "There's two powers - there's the Sight and the Gift. Her Sight shows her a future - the one that will happen if she does nothing to change it, I think..."

"I'm on firmer ground with the Seers than you are," Naia put in. "I understand that much of what she's talking about. The Loires have them every so often - that's why she's got the mark, because not every member of the family can See, and they decided it was better for people to know who to pester rather than assume all of them can do it. It's not carved in stone, what they See, or I think they'd have been run out of town ages ago - because usually what they See are terrible things. Like she said; children drowning, houses on fire, people dying or being badly hurt. The reason they're given such respect is it's not a given, what they See. Like, if - Zia? - saw a child drowning, well, she could walk around with that kid and pull them out when they go down. If she saw a house burning, the fire department could search the house and see where the hazard is, and the tragedies don't happen." She took a deep breath. "Which is why I'm not liking what she said, Shutat. She's not talking about prodding you in the right direction, she's talking about herding you where she - or her gift, or whatever - want you to go."

Shutat felt torn, almost literally torn. A great part of him was just _happy_ he'd run into the Edenite, and accepted everything at face value. But he _had_ gone through Garden training. Intuitions were not sure guides - perhaps especially not for him. "Either me, or my sight," he conceded. "The Edenite part of her gifts does two things at once. It takes a chance from you - that should be random, the way my sight is random, but evidently for her it's not, because she uses it in conjunction with her own sight. That's the vampire part - she's taking choices away from other people whenever she uses her power." He ran his fingers through his curls, trying against his inclination to think instead of feel. "The other half is the part that affects her own future. Every time she takes a choice from someone else, for whatever reason, it affects her own fate. Makes her life better, presumably - good things just _happen_ to her, without her having to do anything to make them happen, and bad things avoid her. When I said she'd been leading me here, it's that part of her power I was talking about. In the whole world, I'm probably the only one she could tell about herself and be happy to know it. And if she's wanted to leave Winhill for a while, coming with us - there's no better excuse available, because no one could possibly be as much help as she could if she wanted to."

Chugi was staring at him with an "I do _not_ believe what I'm hearing" expression. "Are you telling me," he said slowly, implying that Shutat had better not be, "that the reason we came here is because a girl we'd never heard of was looking for her shining prince?" His hands were making fists now, a clear sign of impending destruction. "Shutat. We don't have time for this. _You_ don't have time for this. She can damn well find another shining prince."

"No," said Shutat, and the happy glow was quite gone now, as he thought things out. "You don't understand. We don't have time _not_ to give in. We won't have to take care of her - she can take monster futures as easily as human, and her luck will keep her safe. But if we leave her here, my visions will stay _here_. Every time she uses her power, if it thinks I'm her perfect whatever, I'll be drawn back here. And what I really don't have time for is arguments, Chugi. Maybe her power's right - it's damn sure affecting me, though I don't really know how. But if she stays here, my Sight's likely to stay here - and we _have_ found a trail here to follow, whatever else has happened today. We wouldn't have come here if my visions hadn't kept coming here. If we take her with us - then she's with us. My visions won't be dragged to wherever she is. And if I'm her perfect mate, then her power will act to keep me alive. Buying me time, hopefully." He shrugged. "The Commander gave us an order to find a treasure without even a map to follow, guys. Luck and fate are about all we've got to rely on, and our training to know the trail when we see it to follow."

"How far can we trust _your_ judgement, Shutat?" asked Naia. "You acted like you've known her all your life, or were waiting for her."

"Maybe I have, or maybe I have been," Shutat admitted, thinking now of the dream of Bahamut that he'd had in Esthar. "I'm something that's never existed before and may never exist again, and I can't...after today, I can't call that a fluke. I can't tell you why, because I don't know, but there are reasons and we're being moved around - Zia probably as much as me."

"_Not_ reassuring, Shu," said Chugi. "Not reassuring at _all_."

Shutat couldn't really argue with that. He'd been the one to tell them that people who poked too far into mageborn business tended to disappear, after all. And...as much as he needed Zia's help, if he was understanding her abilities correctly, they were right. He deflated a little, considering that. She _was_ changing Fate around her. What was good fortune for her might or might not be good fortune for anyone near her. "Fair enough," he conceded with a sigh. "Maybe I'm getting carried away."

Chugi led them out of the temple, turned back to look at its brilliance in the late afternoon sun. "Too many coincidences," he said. "It's making me edgy."

Shutat knew what he meant. The visions that led them here, the chance that took them into the temple just when Zia was there... "Time is like that," he said. "I can just see Time. Others, it seems, can manipulate it. Whatever's running the show has been changing things so we're here, at this time...and it's all laid out." Which brought back the memory of Bahamut's stars-in-infinity eyes. That was enough to make Shutat solemn; if Bahamut were manipulating Time through Zia - or through his own Gift - there was truly nothing they could do about it. He'd really just have to _hope_.

"Doesn't sound promising," Chugi noted. "But if it gives you time, and we don't wind up having to kill her, I guess it works out. What's next?"

Shutat looked blank. "I don't know," he admitted. "The tribes, they move around, don't they? I guess just head for Deling - if we're lucky," and he made a face as he realized he'd said that, "then we'll run into them on the way. If we're not, we can see if the Galbadian Empire keeps track of the aboriginal tribes in its territories."

"Guh," grumped Naia. "Galbadia. That's going to bite. We've got a colonial, a rebel, and an enemy. Oh, and Zia, who probably counts as a dangerous mutant."

"Colonial my ass," snapped Chugi. "We'll manage. I'm _assuming_ we're renting chocobos. If we're short on time, _walking_ across the continent is not an option."

"No...no, it's not," Shutat agreed, wondering why he felt vague. Not bad, not ill, but vague - like his mind was wrapped in soft cotton. "Did something just happen?"

"Other than meeting a vampire, no, not really," said Naia, watching him closely. "Chugi, is she still around, can you see her?"

Chugi blinked. "No, she's well gone," he said. "Maybe it's a vision? Shu, let's sit you down somewhere out of the way."

"...No," Shutat said after some thought. "I'm not...it's not bad. And you're right, we're short on time. Chocobos sound good, if we can get gold ones..."

Naia laughed. "Now I _know_ you're not thinking straight. Gold chocobos? For _rent_? Black maybe, if we pay through the nose - look, leave the rentals to me, okay? How many do you need?"

Shutat made himself focus. "Four," he said at last. "One for each of us...we aren't carrying much."

"And if Zia dies, we have a baggage chocobo," Naia nodded. "Perfect. Back soon!" Before Shutat could think of anything to say, Naia turned on her heel and sped off, running - presumably - for chocobo stables.

"Chicken," sighed Chugi, and latched gloved hands on Shutat's coat to drag him forward. "You. Sit down. What the hell's up with you? One minute fine and perky, next minute dazed and confused. Somebody didn't give you a concussion did they?" He pushed Shutat down onto a wrought-iron bench at the side of the lane. "Tell me, or me and Naia ambush Zia and make her give back whatever she took."

"She didn't..." Shutat protested, scrubbing his face. Think. He had to think, make himself think. He stared, vaguely, at the cobble-paved lane, the old houses, the ancient trees. It was like trying to walk forward when someone had a hand on the back of your collar. "It's not Zia," he repeated, as firmly as he could. "I'm just...foggy, all of a sudden. Like a sugar low..."

Gloved hands lifted his chin so that he was staring up at Chugi. The fingertips were bare but everything else felt odd, the metal straps and odd pads that kept Chugi's hands whole while punching through anything. For some reason it was easier to focus on that than on the worried look on Chugi's face. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Look. The only reason I'm not filling my orders right now is I think the middle of town's too open for that. Especially the middle of _this_ town. But when we're out of here, Shu, you're handing over Griever. Because if it's not a vision, and it's not the new girl, then Griever has to be it."

He said that as if it were an order, and Shutat heard it as one, but things were spinning now, very gently. _Griever?_ he thought vaguely. _What does Griever have to do with anything?_

**We're not sure,** the GF responded - and its voice, that had been so easy to deal with before, clanged through Shutat's mind like an alarm bell rung at his ear. His gloved hands immediately clapped themselves to the sides of his head, trying to shut out a sound only he could hear.

Well, he could focus now. His reaction sent Griever grumbling away, and the movement and sound in his mind were painfully loud. It took several minutes to realize Chugi was tugging on his arm, crying his name. "Shutat! Shutat! Tell me what's wrong!"

Shutat forced his eyes open on too-bright sunlight. "I think...you're right," he said. "I need to hand you Griever."

"Not here," Chugi replied, shaking his head in regret. "Surefire way to give us away. And we can't go back to the hotel until Naia gets back. Tell it to be quiet, will you, and I'll see about something for you?"

"P-potion," Shutat managed, closing his eyes. A potion would clear the headache, the sensitivity. At least for a while, and maybe it would be long enough.

"Sit down on that bench, then," said Chugi, taking Shutat by the elbow and half guiding, half leading him to the bench in question - a wrought ironwork affair, more decorative and durable than comfortable. "Just stay there, and I'll go snag one. As many mageborn as there are around here, they shouldn't be too expensive."

Shutat barely heard him; he was far too occupied with trying to think through fog, trying to cope with painful sensitivity of sound and vision. _I don't want another vision_, he told himself, wondering if he could shut the power off somehow. The day had been going so well. He had a brief impulse to call Zia back, but that wouldn't go far toward convincing his friends he wasn't charmed. Humans did tend to confuse the Gifts somewhat and there _were_ mageborn that could do just that - charm the mind so that even other mageborn often did what they wanted. Tonberry gifts were most common in the Deling area; both his friends would have heard of them. But that was just one Gift - it wasn't one _he_ had, and it certainly wasn't a power any Edenite had ever had...

"Here," Chugi's voice intruded, and a clear bottle filled with a translucent liquid was shoved into his field of vision. "Potion, as asked. Is it gonna help, or am I looking at carrying you back to the hotel when Naia gets back?"

Shutat opted not to answer that right away. Instead he unscrewed the cap of the shatterproof bottle and tipped the contents gently into his mouth. Potions were one of the few medicines that worked on mageborn, being magical in nature, and he'd had them before - usually for things like frostburn or broken bones. After the first sip, the headache, sensitivity, and fogginess faded. "It helps," he said, giving Chugi a smile of thanks. "I'll go get a few more while we're somewhere it won't be a major issue. I doubt I've seen the last of my headaches."

Chugi opted to sprawl on the bench then, looking for all the world like an exhausted skater. "My turn to wait here for Naia, then," he said.

Shutat shook his head as he wandered over to the apothecary - the sign clearly marked it as selling both magical and nonmagical remedies, and in the symbols of trade tongue, which was nice. _Of course, I'm making a total hash of my first mission, between visions, fainting spells, sleeping too much and the headaches. At least Zia should be able to help with that. Hopefully she can defend herself. The Dragon only knows how Chugi and Naia would take being ordered to protect her..._

Winhill had this much to recommend it; he walked where he would and bought what he wished without his paper-white skin and blue-tinted hair causing more than a second look. There were mageborn everywhere; Shutat could identify his own kind in any group, mingling freely with humans. It was easy to see why Naia had had no problem getting to know him. It was good to see. _If only they weren't so pleased with their patch of heaven that they refuse to share it..._

He selected potions that were capped in shatterproof, packable vials and presented his ID card to pay for them. These would see him through the precursors and aftereffects of visions; they were designed to heal much worse than simple headaches, and might yet be needed in that manner. Hopefully not, though. Chugi and Naia did have junctions, and spells packed lightest of all. The apothecary packed the vials in a small rope-handled crate of light wood, each potion in its own compartment. Shutat gave the man a thank you and was given the backhanded compliment that his "Winhilli was very good." Rueful, he carried his prizes out to where Chugi was waiting - and Naia had come back, evidently, for she had four chocobos with her and was leading them by the reins.

"Yellow," she said unnecessarily. "Shu, you don't _even_ want to know what that skinflint was going to charge Garden for golds. And he got very short with me when I told him to charge the fees to Garden. But we've got them for as long as we need them; I made him agree that if Garden paid their actual worth in rental fees before we returned, they're ours. So the Commander shouldn't get short with us if we take too long. Even yellow chocobos fetch a lot of gil if they're bred in Winhill."

"It's all right," Shutat agreed. "Gold would've been fun, but to be honest I don't remember how you tell them how to fly. Do they have names? What's the name of mine, and which one is it?"

Naia juggled reins in her hands and handed him a set. "Here. She's called Aderyn. Shutat, Aderyn, Aderyn, Shutat."

She pointed with her free hand at each of them as she spoke the introduction; chocobos were often quite bright and recognized names and masters. Aderyn would now answer to Shutat's commands before those issued by herself or Chugi. Chugi already had a set of reins, and had evidently already gone through his own introduction; he looked a bit embarrassed to be introduced to a chocobo and seemed to regard it as one of the weirdest customs he'd ever encountered.

"And Daerthe is mine," Naia finished, "and the last one's for Zia. Let's get them stabled at the hotel, and we can be going in the morning."

"Sounds good," Shutat agreed, though he was a bit leery of leading his chocobo. He'd had to learn to ride one as part of his training, but it had been the only time in his life he'd even seen one. He wasn't very comfortable with the creatures. He watched as Naia wrapped the reins around her hands and copied her movements, watching Chugi do the same thing.

Naia evidently found their unconfidence amusing. "It's not hard," she said. "You'll get used to it. Daerthe, Alcasta, follow Naia."

Chugi joined Shutat in blinking blankly as the two chocobos Naia had warked in unison and followed tamely behind her, their reins slack in her hands. They exchanged looks, and Chugi said, "Okay, do you want to go first, or d'you want me to?"

"Be my guest," Shutat offered, and Chugi made a face at him.

"Coward," he accused mildly, and then cleared his throat and addressed his chocobo, blushing scarlet. "Kaiba...follow Chugi."

Kaiba did the same thing Naia's chocobos had done, and warked. When Chugi took a few steps, Kaiba followed him. Still bright red - evidently believing everyone in town had to be watching and laughing as he talked to a bird - he said, "Okay, Shutat, it looks like it works."

Shutat sighed. "Okay. Aderyn, follow Shutat." He got the same warked answer the other two had, and when he started for the hotel, the chocobo trotted along behind him.

"Winhilli are _weird_," Chugi said under his breath as Shutat caught up. "Talking to chocobos!"

"Whatever works, I guess," Shutat replied, but it was clear he agreed. Talking to chocobos was weird.

Zia was waiting for them in the hotel lobby, when they'd gotten their rental chocobos settled in the hotel stable. She had apparently managed to pack everything she thought she would need into one large duffel bag, which caused both Chugi and Naia bouts of extreme skepticism, but Shutat didn't want an argument where the hotel staff would gossip about it. "Come with us," he said, "and we'll double check."

Zia gave him a twisted smile. "Think I can't pack a travel bag?" she asked. "Big balls of confidence, you guys are."

Shutat knew very well it was only his own presence that was keeping both of his companions from doing more than giving her skeptical glares, so he grabbed her bag and hefted it over a shoulder, and realized as he did so that his friends were probably in for a pleasant surprise - that bag was _heavy_ for its size, indicative of the kind of space-saving packing that they used themselves. His friends fell into step behind him, leaving Zia to trail along after. She was not unmindful of the jab. As they went up the stairs to their room, she quietly remarked, "You know, I've never understood what humans use for brains. I mean if we're as _dangerous_ as everybody says we are, you'd think humans wouldn't, you know, be jackasses and stuff to us. If _I_ was standing next to someone who could rip my arms off and beat me to death with the wet ends, the _last_ thing I'd want to do is anything that might set her off. You know?"

Chugi and Naia were not stupid; the postures of both martial artists shifted subtly, and Shutat knew without looking that they were one breath away from providing Zia with a solid lesson in what humans were capable of, particularly combat trained and fully junctioned humans. So he remarked, while unlocking their room's door, "I've wondered that myself. But you don't get much of that in Winhill or Balamb, and personally I don't go for playing Big Scary Mageborn if I don't have to. No point in behaving in ways that make the worst rumors true, is there?"

Zia swept into the room and sat on one of the beds. "Generally, no," she agreed. "But you always find people that get defensive before they have to." She looked at Chugi and Naia. "I don't know what you two's problem is, but I'm going with you anyway, so maybe you'd just better spit it out now."

"Are you putting some kind of charm on Shutat to make him take you with us?" Chugi demanded.

Zia smiled. "No," she said clearly, and to make sure she wasn't misunderstood, she added, "I haven't used my power on Shutat except to take away futures where he dies in the next few days. I don't have the power to charm him."

The direct statement mollified both of them for a little while, as Shutat began carefully disassembling Zia's pack. Clothes, waterproof tarp, flint and steel, and enough meal-bars to keep a mageborn alive for months on nothing else....

"Can you take away the futures where he does things you don't want?" Naia asked.

Zia frowned, leaning back on her hands. "In theory, yes," she admitted. "But the Sight's just not that reliable. I Foresee big ugly things like, say, Shutat bursting into flames. Or all of you getting trampled. When I've Seen it, I can try to take that future away - it's two gifts working together, see, not just one. If I weren't a Seer, I could still take futures - but I'd have no idea which futures I was taking, good ones or bad ones. That's the level my power works at - people getting really hurt, people dying. I don't get to See things like you two giving me the third degree."

"We've been his friends for years," said Chugi. "_You_ just turned up today." He sighed, giving up. "Well, if you're going to cause trouble, it won't be right now. You get to sleep in Naia's room."

"Gee, thaaaanks," said Naia with a grin. "Everything in order, Shu?"

Shutat nodded, putting the last of Zia's things back in her pack, as she'd had them. "Sorry about the privacy invasion, Zia, but we're on a mission and - no offense - we have no idea what training you have for the wilds."

"Oh, most of us do time in the volunteer reserve," Zia said. "I mean, there's no one to defend Winhill anymore but us. I picked up the basics." She picked up her bag as easily as Shutat had. "So, am I allowed to know any of your mission?"

"Fraid not," said Shutat quickly, before Chugi and Naia could add their own versions. "I'm glad you've offered to come along, help and all, but - you've got to admit it's impulsive on your part and...we don't have time to fail. Sorry."

Zia gave him a steady look, green-black hair falling across her eyes. "I sometimes See my own future," she said. "Just little bits. Important things. If your visions guided you to this city, you'll understand when I say I've seen you before. You're going to be important to me. I want to find out how."

Many paths, twisted together by her paired gifts into one great road. He'd have to hope the road went a good way; he had no power over her gifts. He indicated the door to an adjoining room. "Naia's room is there," he said. "We leave at dawn."

"I'll be ready," Zia nodded, then turned to Naia. Looked her up and down, and then said, "Okay, I promise I won't kill you in your sleep. Okay?"

Naia tried not to look relieved. "Okay," she said.

"See you in the morning," called Chugi as the two women left, then flopped down on his bed - which had been the one Zia had been sitting on. "Hyne," he breathed. "Visions, crypts, tagalongs, and talking to chocobos. And here I thought working for SeeD would mean, you know, fighting people."

Shutat decided that even if he wasn't very tired, he should try to sleep. No telling how much rest he'd get on the road. He started peeling out of his leather coat and gloves and thermal gear. "They do say SeeD is never what you expect it to be," he remarked. "I wouldn't know; I didn't have any idea what to expect."


	8. Change and Separation

**Apologies**  
  
Griever Chronicles: Shutat is being rewritten. The plot has been reworked, and new chapters are uploaded to replace the old as they are completed. I have not yet caught up to the prior version in chapter numbers, and I didn't want to lose the reviews, so this little notice has been left as a placeholder.  
  
I have many projects going, so this one is probably not going as quickly as you would like. Fear not. (As if you *were*, but nevermind that.) I have a more-or-less-daily goad in place, and those of you who truly wish to see this story placed first in the priority line have a chance to tell me so.  
  
(I write fanfic for the readers. The fanfic that readers kick me in the tailbone for, I give priority to. I have a sensitive tailbone.)  
  
If you wish to prod me, and read the chapters as they're being done, please go to my blog at:  
  
http://larathia.livejournal.com  
  
and there look for the posts which have the (thousand words?) cut in them. The first reply to that post on a given day, asking for a fic, gets a thousand words of that fic done on that day. The details are in the posts.  
  
If you do not have a livejournal, and you've seen this notice, you can send me an email or contact me on AIM asking for one. I have a lot of free-journal codes. I'm willing to give them to my readers, as long as I have any left. (If I don't have any left, I will say so.) 


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